


All The Prince's Men

by softbebe



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Polyamory, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softbebe/pseuds/softbebe
Summary: A year and a half after they’re separated, Minhyuk tracks Hoseok down at royal court, only to realize that the life they once had burned alongside his village, his family, and everything else he lost. He spent a year and a half trying to pick up the pieces, while Hoseok moved on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is not something i thought i was going to be posting, or even writing two days ago, but i woke up friday morning with this idea in my head, planned it all day at work that day, and then outlined the whole thing and have written almost 15k of it so far this weekend. i literally dove into this head-first. i'm not promising a regular update schedule, but i'm trying to second-guess myself as little as possible while writing this so that i can actually get content out instead of obsessing and never releasing anything (so, like, for all the kingdom and historical framework, i'm just doing whatever i want lol). hope it's enjoyable! lots of angst that softens out to a happy ending. i love feedback!

It’s been a year and a half.

That’s all Minhyuk thinks as he keeps to the alcoves at the edges of the chamber, trying to stay out of the line of sight of everyone in attendance. It’s easy and difficult at the same time. A royal banquet attracts many attendees, half on the guest list and half – like him – commoners who were lucky enough to be let in at the castle gates.

He’d had to steal the tunic and pants he’s wearing off of a clothes line, had to steal water from a well to clean himself up, and a switchblade from someone’s back pocket to shave his face. His skin still burns – he’d had no soap, and the blade had been dull.

The hall is stone and wood – a great, echoing chamber supported by massive beams. Or, it should echo. But there are too many people now for it to echo at all. It just drones, hundreds and hundreds of voices working hard to be heard above the fray, a disorienting rush in his ears.

Everyone’s jammed in tight around banquet tables, looking everywhere and nowhere, waiting for the prince to make his appearance. They’ve donned their best – and for those with wealth, it wasn’t hard. Expensive gowns and hair pieces and coats and shoes, gold everywhere, and lace, and jewels.

For others, a pair of pearl earrings might be the best they have to show, or a brooch on a lapel. Sometimes it’s just their faces. Minhyuk assumes he falls in among the latter.

He trimmed his hair, too, but not too much. His fringe still falls down over his eyes, except every now and then he tucks some behind his ears, just so he can see better. The tang of chemicals cloys at his nostrils. The woman who sold him the mixture told him it would dye his hair for three months at most. The smell was nauseating and his palms are still tinted a light brown, but his hair and eyebrows are almost as dark as the smoke that had billowed into the sky the night he fled, leaving everything behind.

That was a year and a half ago.

_You have to leave,_ Hoseok had said, grabbing at his arms. They were just supposed to meet for a walk, in their hidden spot behind the rocks up above the river, like they did every day they could. Nothing should have been any different on this day.

But the moment Minhyuk arrived, Hoseok grabbed him and shook him. _Minhyuk, you have to leave. Now! You have to get everyone and leave!_

_What?_ Minhyuk tried to pull Hoseok’s fingers off of his arms, but panic had strengthened Hoseok’s grip to something stronger than stone. _Hoseok, what’s happening? What did you hear?_

_My father’s soldiers are going to your village tonight. They’re going to burn it down!_

The world lurched beneath Minhyuk’s feet. He clung to Hoseok’s hands to steady himself. _Are you sure? How do you know? Where did you hear this?_

_At court. Outside my father’s chambers. I heard him talking to his advisors. He was going to meet with one of his generals next to give the order._

Minhyuk was used to seeing gentleness on Hoseok’s face – soft cheeks and plush lips turned up in a smile, eyes so patient and admiring. Today Hoseok’s teeth were gritted, his eyes wild.

It was a beautiful day, late October, the trees the color of fire. A harbinger of what was to come. The sun was strong, the breeze slight. They were going to walk along the edge of the river, on the side where the reeds were thick any nobody would see them. But Hoseok had shown up to their meeting spot in his princely garb – those fine, smooth fabrics with their unnecessary embellishments. That should have been Minhyuk’s first clue that something was wrong.

_Are you serious?_ He leaned closer to Hoseok, forced Hoseok to meet his eyes. _Are you absolutely sure?_

_I’m positive. Minhyuk, you have to go. You have to get everybody and go._

_I can’t… Nobody’s going to believe me!_ Minhyuk grabbed the front of Hoseok’s fancy shirt, all embroidered and laced up, too white, cleaner than anything Minhyuk has ever owned.

_You have to make them believe you,_ Hoseok said, voice breaking. His eyes flooded with tears. _Minhyuk, I swear, they’re going to try to kill you all._

_But why? The feud’s over! It’s been over for years! We’re poor! We don’t have anything left! We don’t want anything to do with your father or your god-forsaken family!_

The last part was too much, maybe. Hoseok’s family might be wretched, but Hoseok wasn’t. Hoseok was everything they weren’t – pure, loving, filled with light, his touches always soft and his laughter so easy to coax out of him.

They were just supposed to go on a walk, hold hands where nobody would see them, lie down in the reeds in each other’s arms and pretend they could be together.

_I’m sorry,_ Hoseok said, voice wobbling. He took Minhyuk’s hands, squeezed them in his own.

They’d known each other since they were seventeen, and in those five years Hoseok had held Minhyuk’s hands more times than he could count, but his grip never hurt like it did now. Minhyuk thought his fingers were going to break.

_I’m so sorry,_ Hoseok said, head falling, tears dripping off his nose. _I wish I could do something. But all I can do is ask you to believe me, and tell you to run._

_Run where? We don’t have anything! Where do I go?_

_I can try to hide you at –_

_You can’t do anything! You live in a castle with your father whose grandfather hated one of my great-great uncles enough to strip him of his kingdom, and his people of all their land! He’ll take one look at me and know who I am!_

He tugged at a lock of his hair, the color of frost. Hoseok took his face in his hands, pressed their foreheads together. His tears ran off of his nose onto Minhyuk’s.

_Hoseok_. Minhyuk’s voice was weak. _Hoseok, please, tell me this is a nightmare that I’m about to wake up from._

Hoseok sobbed. At the bottom of the hill they stood on, the river burbled peacefully along. A frog belched in the reeds.

_Be safe,_ Hoseok said. _When you can, find a way to let me know you’re safe._ He was asking the impossible, and they both knew it. It felt like a door closing, like the iron barricade dropping into place in front of the castle doors. This was an ending.

_Do we say goodbye?_ Minhyuk asked. It was a stupid question. It was the shock. He was processing things too quickly and too slowly at the same time.

Hoseok kissed him, a messy press of lips that transferred more tears onto Minhyuk’s face. _I love you. Minhyuk, I love you._

Minhyuk suddenly couldn’t see. And then he blinked, and he could. And then he couldn’t again. His eyes were hot. The heat dripped off of his lower lashes. He was crying too.

_You have to go,_ Hoseok said, and then a second later he said, _I love you so much._

A breeze picked up for a moment, gusting through Hoseok’s hair – short and dark and well-groomed – and Minhyuk’s – long and pale and fluttering messily around his cheekbones and over his ears.

Hoseok had always told him how much he loved his hair. He loved playing with it, running his fingers through it and twisting it into braids – a fancy thing princes learn how to do, he’d said when Minhyuk asked him about it. He’d always said that Minhyuk’s hair was beautiful, that Minhyuk was beautiful.

_Go,_ he said now, giving Minhyuk a gentle backwards push. To Minhyuk, it felt like a kick to the chest.

_Hoseok…_

_Go!_ Hoseok yelled, but his voice broke on the end of it. _Go, please! And be safe. And if –_ He dropped his face into his hands. _If we never see each other again, don’t forget me. You’ll always have my heart._

What Minhyuk thought was, ‘What a princely way of saying _Get out of here_.’

_I love you,_ he whispered. It got picked up by the breeze. He took a step back, and then another, and then turned on his heel and never looked back. He knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to go.

That was a year and a half ago.

* * *

Gasps break out inside the chamber, followed by an upheaval of whispers. Minhyuk cranes his head over the crowd to search for the origin of the disturbance, and sure enough, a side door has opened across the hall. First come the guards, and then there’s the prince, his outfit made of some gleaming silver material that makes Minhyuk think, for a moment, of a river fish.

_Not the best look,_ he’d tell Hoseok, if this was the past and they still saw each other nearly every day.

He ducks his head and turns his face away as Hoseok looks out over the chamber, but it’s just a cursory glance, falling over everyone at once. His guards lead him behind the table at the front of the hall, a long plank of mahogany polished to the point that it gleams as much as he does. He doesn’t wear a crown. Though his father apparently saw it fit to provide him his own small kingdom, a crown is still out of the question.

If Hoseok is the same person he was a year and a half ago, Minhyuk knows he doesn’t mind.

Hoseok takes his seat at the center of the head table, but everyone else knows to stay standing. There’s still time before the feast. A procession forms, slowly filing past the prince. When they’re in front of him, they offer him well-wishes in the form of some regurgitated phrase or another. He smiles at each of them in turn, nods, sometimes utters a thank you.

It’s Minhyuk’s only chance. He wasn’t even guaranteed entry into court – could only hope that the official at the castle gates deemed him, a commoner not on the guest list, up to par to be seen in the same room as the prince. That’s how shallow things are to royalty. That’s the life Hoseok is living.

Now that Minhyuk is inside, he has to draw Hoseok’s attention without causing a scene.

He doesn't look at Hoseok while he’s in line. It’s as though his heart and lungs and ribcage are trying to fit into a space too tight for them all. His breath is short. After a year and a half of missing Hoseok’s face, he can’t look at it. They always had to act like strangers in the eyes of anybody but each other. He can’t break the charade now.

Five paces from Hoseok, and his heart clogs his throat. Four, and his head feels light, his ears stuffed full of cotton. Three, and blood rushes behind his eardrums. Two, and he stares at Hoseok’s hands, folded together on top of the table, his fingernails filed down neatly. He’s so close. He’s close enough to touch. His hands were always so warm and smooth, always smelled like the fancy lotions he slathered over them to keep his skin soft.

Minhyuk steps in front of Hoseok, and forgets what he’s supposed to do. He glances up into Hoseok’s eyes, freezes when they meet his own. Hoseok is in front of him, soft cheeks and kissable lips and gentle eyes. Hoseok doesn’t recognize him.

“Health to the prince,” Minhyuk mumbles, dropping his gaze.

Hoseok’s hands jerk apart from each other. He starts to stand, but Minhyuk has already filed past.

A flurry of questions rises from Hoseok’s guards, answered in Hoseok’s placating tones. And then, just before Minhyuk is out of earshot: “Bring him to my quarters after the feast. I think we may have met before.”

Minhyuk slips through the crowd, ears rushing louder than ever. Dizzy, he collapses into a seat at the edge of the chamber. Minutes later, one of the guards leans down over him, taking him roughly by the arm.

“The prince wishes to meet with you. You’ll eat elsewhere.”

He’s escorted to a compact room, filled with a single work desk and two shelves of books. There’s no window, just an oil lamp burning on the center of the desk. He’s served dinner alone. It’s extravagant, with thick sauces and thicker cuts of meat, a luxury he hasn’t tasted in months, but he eats none of it. Instead, he waits.

* * *

Nobody had believed him. He’d run into the heart of town, yelling for them to run, flee, get the hell out of there. The few people milling about had looked at him like he was crazy.

_The king’s sending his troops to burn the village down!_

They blinked at him, then shook their heads, sighed pityingly under their breaths and returned to doing nothing. That’s all they ever did if they sat out in the village square in the middle of the day. No jobs for a meager salary. No money to spend. No desire to do anything but sit as another day crawled mercilessly by.

Minhyuk went from door to door, alarming people but convincing no one.

_The feud? That’s long in the past!_ one man said, laughing heartily, a few teeth missing from his smile, a few other rotting. _The royal family’s had their fun with us. We’ve got nothing left for them to take! They have no reason to raze the town to the ground, for heaven’s sake!_

Not everyone he encountered was so kind in their dismissal. One woman dealt him a slap to the face, and as he stood on her doorstep, hand to his cheek and head still turned away, she spat, _What do you think you’re doing, crying wolf at your age?_

She slammed the door in his face. He walked away, ear ringing.

His friends laughed at him. His mother looked at him in worry, gently caressed his smarting cheek, and told him to lie down and get some rest.

_I’m not making it up!_ he screamed. She didn’t listen. Nobody had listened.

There’s little else you can do in the face of such utter dismissal but give up and hope that they’re right and you’re wrong.

As dusk approached, the screams began. Through his window, he made out the plume of smoke over the other end of town. An acrid billow of it, so thick it looked like you could fill jars with it, find a way to press it down into a pitch-black gem and then string it through some twine and sell it to whomever might be passing through town with a few coins to spare.

But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t a gem. It was the fire Hoseok had promised.

Minhyuk took his mother and ran. Everywhere, villagers ran. The fire caught so quickly it might have been alive, leaping from roof to roof, devouring the summer-dried wood like it was feasting. It was gluttonous.

But there was hope, until Minhyuk realized the town’s exits had been barricaded.

Soon the entire sky was black. Smoke clawed its way down his throat, filled his eyes and blinded him. Tears ran hot down his face for the second time that day. He stumbled and tugged his mother after him, but lost her hand somewhere along the line without realizing it.

He couldn’t see an inch in front of his nose, but the heat was everywhere. It pressed in on him, caressed his face, plastered his shirt to his back. It wiped every thought of finding his mother from his brain. He was acting on a single impulse – survival. He pushed blindly forward, pushed aside whatever was in his way – sometimes it felt like bodies, sometimes it felt like wood or brick.

He had just the smallest glimpse of blue sky to guide him, billowing in and out of view on his horizon, blurred by his tears and the smoke. He went desperately toward it, choking, gasping, brain slowing down.

The world fell out from under him.

He tumbled and rolled.

He hit the bottom, smashing his nose and forehead on something hard. Cool water soothed the pain, but he couldn’t breathe. He flipped onto his side and retched, coughing up smoke and bile. And then he rolled all the way onto his back and lay on the shallow river bottom, blinking his eyes clear. Smoke drifted up into the sky.

Hours later, once his skin had chilled and the sky had gone from blue to pink to purple, all the way to a deep midnight black, he finally heard another human voice.

_Search the area. Make sure there aren’t any survivors._

The edge of the village glowed a dull orange at the top of the hill he’d rolled down, the embers still burning low. He could tell the sky was blanketed in smoke because not a single star was visible, nor was the moon. He’d lost his sense of smell hours ago, or had just gotten used to the scent of burning.

_Check the river as well!_

He rolled over onto his hands and knees, got unsteadily to his feet, and sloshed out of the river. Like Hoseok had said, he had to go. He would probably never come back.

* * *

The guard walks him down a quiet hallway, steering him by the upper arm. Their footsteps echo off the stone. The windows they pass are works of art, massive cuts of glass all fit together into intricate patterns, some of the panes tinted so that during the day, the sun must shine through them in multi-colors. Now the windows just show nighttime beyond – the darkness of the castle grounds and a sky flooded with stars.

They step through an archway flanked by two other guards, turning into a hallway that dead-ends up ahead. There are no windows here, just torches on the walls and a single door halfway down the hall. Like the windows, it’s massive. A handsome, honey-colored wood. The guard knocks on it, then says, “You may enter.”

Minhyuk pushes it open, grunting a bit at the effort. Inside is a hallway, much narrower, lit only by a dim light coming from beyond a hanging curtain at the end of it. He shuts the door and proceeds inside.

The echo of his footsteps against the stone sounds faraway. It’s like he’s navigating a dream, and when he passes through the part in the curtain, the fabric brushes his face so gently it might as well be a figment of his imagination.

He finds himself in a spacious, windowless bedroom, lit a warm orange by strategically placed oil lamps. Most of the floor is swathed in thick rugs but otherwise left open. An overlarge bed sits against the middle of the wall to Minhyuk’s right.

Hoseok stands next to the bed. He’d been biting his lip, watching the curtain nervously, but when Minhyuk stepped through he let out a single breath – like he’d been punched in the gut, or stabbed.

Now he stares at Minhyuk with his mouth open. The shock on his face slowly crumbles. His lower lip trembles.

“Minhyuk,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Minhyuk whispers back.

His throat closes. He thinks he might fall, but Hoseok rushes forward and pulls him close. Hugs him so tightly Minhyuk can’t breathe, but in this moment he would happily die in his arms.

“You’re alive,” Hoseok whispers into his neck, clutching him tighter still. “I thought – I can’t believe – you’re _alive._ ”

“I am,” Minhyuk says, clinging back. Hoseok’s still wearing that stupid silvery thing, the fabric slippery and cool to the touch. Minhyuk clenches his fingers into it and chokes out, “It took me so long to find you.”

They cling to each other. Minhyuk says nothing and Hoseok sobs quietly, his arms strong around Minhyuk and so familiar. For the first time in a year and a half, Minhyuk feels safe.

Eventually, Hoseok’s sobs turn into sniffles, and then those quiet down as well. Hoseok pulls back and blinks his eyes dry. Even though the light is poor, Minhyuk can tell how red they are, and how red Hoseok’s nose is, too, and his cheeks. He always got blotchy when he cried. Minhyuk’s about to reach for his face, swipe some of the tear tracks off of his cheeks, but Hoseok takes both of his hands.

“You have to tell me everything.”

“I will –” Minhyuk starts, but he’s cut off by the door opening.

Someone enters and shuts it softly. Their footsteps approach the curtain. Minhyuk turns partway toward it, his hands slipping out of Hoseok’s.

A man comes through, dressed plainly enough in a simple tunic and pants. He has dark hair and dark eyes, high cheekbones. He’s small and slight of build, but Minhyuk almost misses this detail. The man sees Minhyuk and raises his eyebrows, eyes opening a little wider in question, but he doesn’t break his stride.

“We have a visitor,” Hoseok tells him. The statement rings strange to Minhyuk, but he can’t place how.

“I can see that,” the man says comfortably.

Maybe that’s what’s strange. He seems utterly comfortable in this room. He steps up beside Hoseok, takes one of his hands and gives it a gentle squeeze while continuing to look at Minhyuk curiously. “But who is it?”

Minhyuk stares at their hands, then looks up at Hoseok, who quickly extracts his hand from the other man’s. He looks like a deer that has suddenly realized it's in a bad situation, trying to quickly process what to do without triggering a reaction from what’s in front of it.

“Who is he?” Minhyuk asks. His voice sounds like someone else’s, like it, too, is coming from beyond the curtain.

The quiet thickens around him. The unfamiliar man glances between him and Hoseok, a furrow forming between his eyebrows. And then it smoothes out. He looks at Minhyuk with sudden clarity.

“Oh, you’re Minhyuk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the interest in this story so far! kihyun will be making his way into the plot more firmly next chap. these next few are going to be pretty heavy on the angst. i edited this chap on too little sleep while trying to survive a heatwave so pls point out any glaring errors...

The room they’re in now is about a third the size of Hoseok’s, which still leaves it fairly large. It’s along the outer wall of the castle, so it has a window. The combination of starlight and the oil lamps hanging from the walls leaves it bright inside.

Minhyuk and Hoseok sit next to each other on the bed. They left the other man behind, in Hoseok’s bedroom.

Hoseok has been staring at the side of Minhyuk’s face, but Minhyuk has been staring at the window, eyes out of focus. He’s finally untied the satchel he’d fastened around his waist, hidden under his clothes. It deflates on top of the blankets, holding next to nothing at all.

Hoseok breaks the silence.

“What happened to your hair?”

Minhyuk doesn’t quite have the energy to chuckle. All that comes out is a breath of air through his nose. Part of him isn’t surprised that this is Hoseok’s first question.

“I dyed it, so I could get into court. Just in case my hair would be a problem.”

“It wouldn’t have been. Not out here –”

“Well, I still dyed it.” His voice cuts across Hoseok’s like a dagger through calm water. “I figured I couldn’t risk it.”

He looks at Hoseok, takes in the frown that seems to be everywhere in Hoseok’s expression, not just his mouth.

For a place so large, the castle is alarmingly quiet now. There’s a spell hanging in the air, about to be broken.

“I figured this was my only chance,” Minhyuk says.

Hoseok looks from Minhyuk’s eyes to his frayed satchel on the bed, then to his ill-fitting, stolen clothes. Then back at his hair – the hair he used to love, and who knows what it really looks like now. Minhyuk hadn’t had much time to dye it, had trimmed it with the same dull blade he’d used on his face. Neither were careful jobs.

“Tell me what happened,” Hoseok whispers.

Minhyuk lets out another breath, through his mouth this time. It’s like he’s being interrogated by someone who doesn’t have the heart to do the job. But it’s better to talk, to avoid thinking about the man they left in Hoseok’s room.

“Nobody believed me.” He says it without inflection, looking back toward the window. His mind fills with images of smoke, of thick logs stacked across the road out of town, the wood flaming. “Your father’s soldiers started the fire and barricaded the exits. Everybody died. I didn’t.”

Hoseok winces. Did he really not known the extent of his father’s actions? Or does it just make them all the more real, to hear of them from one of the victims? The silence lasts and lasts.

“And how did you find me?” Hoseok finally asks.

Minhyuk lets out a broken laugh. “You’re a prince. You were given your own kingdom. It wasn’t hard. It was only hard getting here. It was far.”

There’s a half a foot of space between them, but something much more that isn’t visible. A barrier that never used to be there. When he glances over again, Minhyuk sees Hoseok trying to figure out how to breach the distance between them.

Hoseok had promised him his heart forever, but it was a promise built on shaky ground. Now they’re on the other side of that promise, the side of reality. Hoseok is still a prince. But now he’s a prince with his own kingdom, small as it is, and a life that has moved forward in spite of Minhyuk struggling to catch up to it.

“I always hoped you were still alive,” Hoseok says. He’s trying to smile, trying to get Minhyuk to do the same. “I always hoped you would come back. For the past eighteen months, I hoped every day that you would just… show up.” His smile trembles into nothing. He bites his lip. “And then you did.”

“But you have another lover.”

Hoseok opens his mouth to respond, but Minhyuk doesn’t give him time.

“Or maybe you have more than one. A whole harem of them. Your bed’s huge. You’re a prince. You can have as many as you want, right? All the prince’s men. Men and women, maybe.”

“Let me explain Kihyun,” Hoseok pleads.

“Kihyun.” Minhyuk tests the name out. It makes him feel nothing. But the image of Kihyun taking Hoseok’s hand… that stirs something deep and awful, like he’s bruising from the inside out.

“Yes, he’s my lover, but he’s the only –”

“You don’t have to explain him. It’s been a year and a half. You thought I was dead. It’s fine. It’s normal.”

Hoseok chews on his lip again – a nervous habit of his. Soon it will be puffy and red. He’s been blinking more than usual, too, like he’s barely keeping the tears at bay.

Minhyuk observes all of this like a bystander. There’s a lens in front of his eyes, distorting things just enough that they don’t seem quite real. His voice, every time he speaks, still sounds faraway.

Hoseok swallows loudly, then steers the conversation elsewhere.

“I’ll have someone bring you clothing tomorrow. The tailor will measure you and make you several garments you can wear.”

“Okay,” Minhyuk says.

“You can use anything in this room. It’s yours. You can have anything from anywhere in the castle. I’ll let everyone know.”

“Okay.”

Hoseok takes a lock of Minhyuk’s hair between his thumb and forefinger. He searches Minhyuk’s eyes, and whatever he sees makes his brow pinch. “I know things seem strange, with Kihyun, but I don’t want you to think about that, or worry about anything right now. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Most people would respond with an _I’m okay_ just to say it and move the conversation to better waters, but that lie is out of Minhyuk’s reach. He just stares back into Hoseok’s eyes, through the invisible barrier between them.

“There’s water in the bathroom,” Hoseok says softly. “It should still be warm. You can bathe. And then you should get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll bring you breakfast in the morning. If you need anything during the night, there’s a guard at each end of the hall. You can request anything from them.”

Minhyuk’s getting tired of repeating the same word, so he stays silent. Hoseok lets go of his hair to cup his cheek, but withdraws when Minhyuk averts his eyes.

“I love you,” Hoseok whispers. He’s really going to cry if he stays any longer. His voice frays like a cord that's about to snap in half.

Minhyuk turns his face away, staring fixedly at a spot on the floor where the rug meets stone.

Hoseok leaves quietly, closing the door so that it barely makes a sound. The silence he leaves behind presses in on Minhyuk from all sides, trying to squeeze him into nothingness.

He’s learned a few things in the past year and a half. One is that, when reality is too bleak and looming and he’d rather turn himself off than be faced with it, it’s best to just keep moving anyway. Even a few steps.

So he stands and walks into the bathroom. The floor is made of the same stone as the rest of the castle, and there’s a tub along one wall – an actual tub, large enough to lay down in! – and a great wooden basin filled with water off to the side, with a smaller bucket beside that.

The wooden basin has handles along the rim – some servants must have carried it in. And recently, too, because when Minhyuk dips his hand beneath the surface, the water still holds a tinge of warmth.

There’s a clean tunic and loose pants for him to sleep in on the counter, alongside folded cloths of various sizes to dry himself with, and soaps and a blade for his face. He feels like he’s in some elaborate stage play, like he shouldn’t touch the props.

He transfers water from the wooden basin into the tub, then strips down, leaving his stolen clothes a heap on the floor, and steps into his bath. He imagines somebody used to warm baths would complain about the lukewarm temperature, but he’s used to bathing in cold water or not at all. It’s heavenly – even the water itself feels softer than usual. It slides over his skin like a balm.

The tub is smooth, the sides sloped so that he can lean back comfortably. He forgot to bring any of the soaps and doesn’t want to get back out for them, but no great loss. He runs a hand slowly through the water, watching it part around his fingers. Gentle waves lap against the side of the tub, echoing off the stones.

He sinks all the way beneath the surface, holds his breath for a few moments, then resurfaces. Dark brown water streams out of his hair, runs down his arms and chest. But when he pulls a lock of hair in front of his eyes, it’s still dark too. Almost as dark as Hoseok’s.

He leans his head back against the lip of the tub, closes his eyes, and remembers how they met. The first time they were strangers.

* * *

Minhyuk was seventeen.

He was at the river, an especially jagged and rocky part of it several miles upstream from the village. Though the current could be choppy here, there was one place where the rocks evened out to form a shallow pool where fish liked to gather, making them easy to catch.

His bucket sat ready on a nearby rock, filled with water, and his pants were rolled up above his knees. His arms were full of netting. He was just about to step into the water when a twig snapped.

He froze. Nobody ever came around here, and it had been too loud to be a deer’s footfall.

Across the pool was a boy who looked to be about Minhyuk’s age, with short, dark hair and soft-looking cheeks, wearing the most ridiculous outfit Minhyuk had ever seen. His leather boots had some sort of golden insignia on them, and he was wearing a cape.

_Uh, hi?_ Minhyuk said. The boy didn’t look like he was here to fish. Didn’t look like he _could_ fish.

The boy stared at him, eyes round with curiosity. Minhyuk was starting to wonder if he was mute, when the boy finally said, _You’re from the town behind the wall, aren’t you?_

Minhyuk’s teeth ground together. He’d heard that one before. It gave him a general idea of where this boy might be from. They were about halfway between the royal castle and Minhyuk’s village – any farther toward the former and he’d start running into estates.  

_Yeah,_ he answered, lifting his chin. _Do you have a problem with it?_

The boy waved his hands in front of his face. _No no no! Sorry! That came out wrong._ His voice was nearly a man’s, but still held a tinge of adolescence. It probably cracked a lot. Minhyuk could relate, but he wasn’t in the mood to commiserate.

The boy starting coming around the pool. As he did, Minhyuk caught a better look at the insignia on his boots, and the one on his cape. The royal arms.

_Wait, you’re from the castle itself?_ Minhyuk blurted. He took several steps back, holding the netting up in front of him – either as a shield or a weapon, he wasn’t sure. Neither would have been effective.

The boy stopped short, only halfway around the pool. _Yeah,_ he said tentatively. _I am._

Minhyuk had heard of the royal family, had a general idea of the ages of some of the more important members. He hazarded a guess: _Are you the prince?_

The boy bit his lip, but gave a careful nod. _I am._

Minhyuk grabbed his bucket, tipped the water out, and stuffed his netting inside. If he were one of the wild dogs he encountered around these parts from time to time, his hackles would have been up.

_Where are you going?_ the boy called after him.

_Back into my walls,_ Minhyuk shot back, stepping over the rocks quicker than was safe. He didn’t slip, and didn’t wait around for a reply.

To his suspicion, and then just his exasperation, the prince showed up again the next day, and the day after that, and on and on. Minhyuk tried ignoring him at first, but it was difficult fishing under the prince’s relentless attention and attempts at conversation.

So Minhyuk tried to ice him out with curt responses, but that worked no better. The prince just sat on a rock, splashing his feet and scaring all the fish away. He seemed pretty damn harmless, but oblivious enough to make Minhyuk’s temples twinge.

He told Minhyuk that he kept showing up because he was curious. He was supposed to be on hunts but he didn’t really like them very much and wasn’t any good at them. But he _was_ good at slipping away from his guards, and maybe he could pick up fishing while he was at it?

_I doubt it,_ Minhyuk said with a scoff, but the prince – _Hoseok_ , the prince kept reminding him – insisted, begged, pleaded, pouted. Fed up one day, Minhyuk threw his netting into the water, scattering the fish he’d managed to corral toward one edge of the pool.

_Excuse me for sounding rude, Prince Hoseok Your Royal Majesty or whatever I’m supposed to call you –_

_Your Highness,_ Hoseok said with a smirk. He was sitting back on a smooth, flat slab of rock, just dipping his toes into the water.

_Right. Your Highness._ Minhyuk was knee deep in water and seriously considering just grabbing Hoseok by the ankles and tugging him right in, soak his dumb cloak and all. _Sorry to say this, but I think you’d be shit at fishing, just like you’re shit at hunting._

Hoseok laughed and laughed. An unnerving thing about him was that his laughter was always genuine.

After a little over a week of this, Minhyuk had had enough. He arrived at the pool to find Hoseok sitting in wait for him. He hadn’t brought his fishing supplies today, just stalked straight up to Hoseok and said, _You’re not colorblind, right? You can see my hair?_

Hoseok got to his feet. _Yeah, I see it,_ he said, a tremble in his voice, probably because Minhyuk had never shown him such outright hostility before.

Minhyuk was the taller of the both of them, which was immensely satisfying just then. _Okay, so then why don’t you just leave me alone? You’re not supposed to want to have anything to do with me._

Hoseok blinked, surprised. _You know the story?_

It was the stupidest question Minhyuk had ever heard. He laughed in Hoseok’s face, sharp and full of contempt. Of _course_ he knew the story.

In truth, he only knew the gist of it. It had been decades since the feud had actually happened. But there had been two kingdoms, not quite neighbors but close, one larger and one smaller. The larger was headed by the Shin family. The smaller, by the Lee family. The kings fell in love with the same woman, a princess. The details are fuzzy, to Minhyuk at least.

_The moral,_ his mother always told him, _is that men do stupid things when they think they’re in love. They cast aside their brains and act on their egos._

The Shin family’s ego was larger, or perhaps it was just their kingdom that was. In any case, the king declared war.

_Over a girl?_ a much younger Minhyuk had asked, befuddled then and still fairly befuddled now. How could rulers could go to war, involve their whole kingdoms, over a single person?

_Over a girl_ , his mother confirmed. The details are vague and largely unnecessary. What happened was that the Shin family won, and the Lee family, honor-bound, gave them everything – land, money, people. They were put inside the town behind the wall.

This was all long before Minhyuk was born. He doesn’t have much royal blood in him. He’s an outer branch on the Lee family tree. His only great claim to anything at all is his hair, but its only claim is disgrace.

_So anyway,_ he said to Prince Hoseok, who for the first time looked a little bit afraid of him, _how about you let me fish in peace, and you go off and enjoy being a prince?_

Hoseok held his ground, albeit nervously. A pushover prince, wanting to be tougher than he was. He couldn’t meet Minhyuk’s eyes. Finally, he said to the rocks at their feet, _You aren’t missing much. Being a prince doesn’t really mean anything._

Minhyuk could hardly believe his ears. When had he said he wanted to be a prince? How could Hoseok be so insufferable? How could _anyone_ be so ignorant of how much they had, nestled comfortably in the palm of their hand?

Minhyuk stalked away right then and there.

The next day, he found Hoseok knee-deep in the pool, inching toward one side with some netting in his hands. He’d discarded his cloak; his back was to Minhyuk. He tossed the netting into the water, let out a celebratory cry, and then a _Huh?_ as the fish all wriggled out.

Minhyuk sighed. _You struck too soon._

In the end, Hoseok wore him down with his kindness, and the fact that, for a prince, he really wasn’t very snooty. Oblivious, but not pretentious. (And over time, Minhyuk began to wonder if the obliviousness wasn’t just part of a façade).

Minhyuk was quick to realize how soft-hearted Hoseok was. How friendly. How clumsy. How genuine. How handsome. He probably should have hated him, but it was hard to do that when he and Hoseok were both so disconnected from the history between them.

Hoseok tried to teach him how to do boring princely things like learn obscure languages, but Minhyuk was terrible at them. Minhyuk tried to teach him how to do useful things like tie knots and set traps for small game, but Hoseok was terrible at them, and at fishing.

They both enjoyed drawing, and spent many peaceful afternoons sitting on the rocks, feet in the water, sketching their surroundings. Hoseok gifted Minhyuk fresh pads of paper, and quills and ink, and graphite, and even watercolor paints, all of which Minhyuk hid under his bed at home.

Hoseok kissed him for the first time when they were nineteen, out beyond the river a ways, underneath a plum tree that was dropping fruit by the bucketful. The air smelled sweet, but Hoseok’s lips – still slightly sticky with plum juice – were sweeter.

_Was that okay?_ Hoseok asked afterwards. He was shrinking in on himself, scared of what he’d just done. He wasn’t as small as he used to be – he’d grown a few inches, but so had Minhyuk, who was still taller. He’d steadily been putting on muscle, too, but he never lost the softness in his cheeks.

_Do you mean in general?_ Minhyuk asked, heart pounding up into his ears. _Or because you’re a prince and I’m supposed to be your mortal enemy? Or are you just asking if you’re a good kisser?_

Hoseok smiled. _All of it?_

Minhyuk answered by kissing him again.

_We’re not supposed to be mortal enemies,_ Hoseok said against his mouth. _Just slight enemies._

_Well,_ Minhyuk replied, running one hand into Hoseok’s hair, which was as soft as he’d always imagined it would be, _we aren’t even doing that_ _right._

Being in love with Hoseok was the easiest thing in the world, even though the falling part hadn’t been. But there was a problem.

_We can’t be together, though,_ he said, a few weeks before his twentieth birthday. Hoseok kept trying to kiss him, so he turned his face away, and Hoseok pouted against his cheek.

_Yeah we can,_ Hoseok said, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his ear.

Minhyuk frowned. _How?_

Hoseok took Minhyuk’s chin and gently turned his head. He smiled, cupped Minhyuk’s face in his hands, pressed their noses together.

_Like this._

* * *

Minhyuk wakes up to a knock on the door, and then the creak of it opening.

He panics, pulling the blankets around himself and scrambling to sit up, knocking his head against the headboard. Pain blurs his vision, but when he finally blinks his eyes clear, it’s Hoseok he spots, frozen in the doorway.

Stone walls, clean bedsheets. He remembers where he is. Hoseok’s castle.

“I brought you breakfast,” Hoseok says.

Minhyuk’s face heats up. “Right. I forgot.”

Hoseok sits on the edge of the bed, setting down a platter full of food. There’s a bowl of some sweet-smelling porridge, and a plate of fruit and bread, some cuts of meat, some stewed vegetables.

“I can’t eat all of this.”

“Just do your best,” Hoseok says. There are two sets of utensils. He takes a knife and fork and cuts into a slice of ham. “I’ll help you finish it.”

They eat in a strange silence. Minhyuk takes small bites of the porridge, barely tasting it. He can tell he’s famished – his stomach pangs emptily, his head hurts – but every time he tries to swallow, his throat closes up and he feels faintly sink.

Finally, Hoseok says, “I need to know how you got away.” He says it with his eyes on the platter. He doesn’t sound like he even wants to hear the answer.

Minhyuk sets his spoon down. “I fell into the river.”

Another stretch of silence. Hoseok asks, “Nobody left when you told them to?”

Minhyuk’s fingernails prick his palms. Hoseok notices and tries to loosen one of his fists, but Minhyuk yanks it out of his grasp.

“Nobody believed me. They thought I was joking, or crazy, or just wrong. I couldn’t get them to listen.” He swallows, sucks in a deep breath. Hoseok’s eyes flit over his face, so full of pity. It makes him want to burn up on the spot.

He tips his head back against the wall. “I just gave up. I could have done more, but I just lay in bed until it happened.”

“You tried,” Hoseok says soothingly.

Minhyuk huffs out a laugh, staring up at the ceiling. “No I didn’t.”

“You did,” Hoseok says. “You just told me you tried –”

“It wasn’t enough! I didn’t try hard enough!” His shouts echo off the stone. He pins Hoseok with what he hopes is all the fire inside of him. “You don’t understand because you’re a prince and you have your castle and your family, but the village was _my_ family.They’re all gone! Everything I ever knew is gone!”

He hasn’t cried since that night, and he doesn’t cry now. The urge burns like a coal at the very back of his throat, but it stays lodged there. He’s done a very good job in the past year and a half of thinking of the fire and of the people he lost as concepts, purely clinical, so that it never felt quite real. He fights to do the same now. He isn’t about to let a year and a half of pent up grief crash over him.

It’s close, though. It hammers at the door, begging to be let out.

Hoseok reaches for him, lays a hand on his cheek. He’s so gentle, but Minhyuk’s jaw goes tighter and tighter, like it doesn’t want him to say the words he’s forcing out. Each one hurts physically.

“They all burned to death, or suffocated. I didn’t even try to go back for my mother. I didn’t try to find her. I left them all behind, in that _hell_.” His voice strangles into nothing, and still Hoseok just looks at him, patient and caring and too maddeningly uncertain.

“Stop staring at me like that,” Minhyuk says.

Hoseok lifts his other hand, rests it on Minhyuk’s other cheek. Minhyuk tries to turn his face away, but Hoseok won’t let him. So instead he looks Hoseok straight in the eyes, unclenches his jaw, and grits out, “I lost everything and _everyone_. Every. Single. Person.” _Except you._

_Understand,_ he demands, too afraid to say it. _Understand what that means. Understand what I’m telling you._

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok says. He rests their foreheads together. His hands still smell like the lotions he slathers them in, the same floral scent. One more thing that hasn’t changed. He whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

The fight rushes out of Minhyuk, leaving him dizzy. Their noses touch as he sags. He shuts his eyes, and it’s almost as though no time has passed. They’re standing on the edge of the river, hidden by the reeds, and Hoseok is going to kiss him and everything is going to be okay. His heart swells. His body feels light. He’s so touch-starved. Hoseok’s hands arm so warm.

There’s a knock on the door. His eyes fly open, but Hoseok still doesn’t let him go.

“Just a moment!” Hoseok calls. And then, softer, for Minhyuk’s ears only: “Do you want your meals brought to you today?”

Minhyuk wonders if Hoseok’s trying to dote on him, or if he’s treating him like an invalid. He nods.

“Okay. I’ll be busy through lunch, but I’ll bring you dinner.”

“You don’t have to if you’re busy.”

Hoseok shakes his head. It rubs their noses together. The coal burns at the back of Minhyuk’s throat.

“I won’t be busy for dinner.” He tucks a lock of hair behind Minhyuk’s ear, then kisses his cheek. “Please eat your breakfast. I’ll see you later.”

After he leaves, the tailor comes in. Minhyuk stands and lets himself be measured, swaying slightly. After the tailor, a barber troops in and evens out his hair, hardly trimming it but just making it so that the ends aren’t frayed and jagged.

Once they’re all gone, Minhyuk collapses onto his bed. So much has happened, and he’s overwhelmed. He sleeps until Hoseok knocks for dinner.

They sit beside each other in silence, but Hoseok makes sure to push cuts of meat and vegetables to Minhyuk’s side of the plate so that he eats them. Once Minhyuk can’t stuff down another bite, Hoseok wipes a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth, then kisses his cheek, the one he didn’t kiss this morning.

“I’ll have someone send you breakfast in the morning, unless you want to come to the dining chamber.”

Minhyuk turns his head quickly, realizes too late to hide his alarm. Hoseok is going back to his room, to the other man, and he’s not going to come for Minhyuk in the morning.

“I’ll eat here,” Minhyuk says. His cheek tingles where Hoseok kissed him.

When he wakes up the following morning, he doesn’t remember going to bed, doesn’t even remember Hoseok leaving.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, I've had this chapter done for approx two weeks but have been putting off editing it because of various Real Life Responsibilities (also laziness). please consider commenting if u like!

Hoseok visits sporadically, popping in at odd hours, trying to get Minhyuk to talk to him and mostly failing. He grows more and more desperate, but it’s hard for Minhyuk to feel anything about this.

It’s like there’s his body, sitting on the bed beside Hoseok, and then there’s himself, floating a bit away from it, and there’s a thin string connecting the two. He can almost see himself the way Hoseok must, the disinterest radiating off of him, like curtains slowly being drawn over a window, leaving the inside in a thick, muffling darkness.

Every time Hoseok leaves, he kisses Minhyuk’s cheek, and every time it feels sadder and sadder. On the fifth day, he tries to explain Kihyun again.

“Kihyun is my lover,” he says, straight to the point, looking Minhyuk in the eyes. That’s another thing that hasn’t changed – he’s stubborn as hell, doesn’t let things go, isn’t easily dissuaded. Their knees almost touch on the bed.

“Kihyun is my lover, but he isn’t the only person I love. I never stopped thinking about you, not for a single day. He was never your replacement.” He takes Minhyuk’s hands, lifts them to his lips and kisses each knuckle. Minhyuk watches, feeling farther away from himself than he ever has before – it’s as though the knuckles Hoseok is kissing aren’t even his own.

“I love you,” Hoseok says. His smile is so hopeful. For a moment, Minhyuk is pulled straight back into himself. His heart flops a few times, like the fish did as they slowly died in his bucket on the walks home.

Hoseok pulls Minhyuk’s hands to his chest. Turns a bit more toward Minhyuk, so that their knees brush. “That hasn’t changed at all.”

But the barrier’s still there. Or maybe Minhyuk is the only one who feels it. Maybe it’s inside of him. He thinks he should be feeling at least half a dozen different emotions right now, but all he can dredge up is fatigue. It’s fatigue all day long, every day, even when the sunlight pours through his window, bright with spring.

But he does remember one curious thing today, as Hoseok’s heartbeat thumps against the backs of his hands:

“He knew who I was.”

Excitement bursts over Hoseok’s features, a glimmer in his eyes, as bright as the light slanting through the window. “Of course he did. I told him all about you.”

Minhyuk’s thoughts grind back to a halt. He doesn’t understand. None of it makes sense, none of this, none of _that,_ what Hoseok just said. He shakes his head, too tired to say the words. _You don’t make sense to me anymore._

“I haven’t replaced you.” Hoseok squeezes Minhyuk's hands tighter, realizing he’s said the wrong thing. “If you wanted to… if you were ready… I want to have what we used to have.”

But Minhyuk is drifting, head turning away, eyes going to the wall. He hears Hoseok’s next words as though they come through an alley on a stormy day, barely discernible over a buffeting wind.

“I can’t make Kihyun go away. He’s important to me, but I haven’t chosen him over you. It isn’t like that at all.”

Fingers brush along Minhyuk’s jaw, startling him. Hoseok touches him so gently, so carefully, it’s like Minhyuk is a precious thing he’s afraid of breaking.

“I haven’t chosen between the two of you,” Hoseok says.

He kisses Minhyuk’s cheek, and then leaves him to ponder over that.

Minhyuk does for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, cheek tingling. He pokes and prods at Hoseok’s words from every angle, looking for cracks, or maybe looking for them to stand strong. All they do is confuse him.

* * *

He decides to go to the dining chamber that night. Little steps to keep him moving. He’s been spending too much time in bed.

He gets lost several times and has to ask the guards stationed throughout the castle for directions, but soon enough he catches the sound of dining chatter and knows he’s close.

A great set of double doors opens ahead of him. He arrives early into dinner, the front table nearly empty. He sits alone at the table nearest the exit and pulls a platter of roasted fowl toward him. Nobody pays him attention, so he tears off a thigh with his hands and bites in.

The meat is juicy and heavily seasoned, so delicious his eyes almost water. The food Hoseok brings him has been bland in comparison. Maybe he’s afraid that too many flavors will break Minhyuk like the wrong words or too rough a touch will.

Minhyuk has just sucked the last bit of meat from the bone when Hoseok comes through the side door at the front of the hall. He heads to the center of the table, sits beside a severe-looking man who clinks their goblets together in greeting.

The door opens again, and through it comes a man who is slight of build and sure of stride. Dark hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones. Prince Hoseok sits at the high table, and Kihyun settles in beside him, clinks their goblets together, earns himself one of Hoseok’s endeared smiles.

Minhyuk gets up and leaves.

* * *

He’s fidgety when he returns to his room, can’t get the thought of them out of his mind, side by side at the table for all to see. Everyone at court knows, then. Prince Hoseok has a lover who eats beside him as though he’s nobility as well.

Too restless to sit still, Minhyuk decides to unpack. It’s a process that should only take two seconds. He could just dump the contents of his satchel, all five items, onto his bed and be done with it, but he takes his time.

They can have the high table. They can have a bedroom to themselves. But this room is Minhyuk’s. He takes a grudging, vengeful sense of comfort in the fact. He isn’t fooling himself – he has no plans to leave the castle, has nowhere to go, and Hoseok wants him around anyway. So he’s going to carve himself into this tiny part of it, make it something all of his own that nobody can take from him.

The first item he pulls out of his satchel is a little square booklet as big as his hand, the binding covered in thin brown fabric. Half of the pages are blank, and half are covered in sketches. A way to let his thoughts wander off into the few pleasant corners left in his head.

Next he takes out a stick of graphite, wrapped in twine for grip. He found it on the side of the road one day, practically invisible in the dirt. Once he picked it up, he decided to steal a sketchbook to go with it.

He places the graphite and the sketchbook on the bedside table, and just like that, the table is his.

Next he takes out a tiny dog figuring, small enough to hide in his closed fist. It’s carved from a beautiful black stone, the chiseling so expertly done that it has defined ears and paws and a tail and even tiny beady eyes.

It sits on its haunches, ears perked up in excitement. When Minhyuk saw it on the display stand in the market he stole it from, he knew he had to have it. Such a happy little dog, a companion to take with him. He’d become quite a talented thief by then. He’d become very lonely.

He places the dog on the window ledge, looking inwards so that it can keep watch over him.

The only other piece of furniture in the room is the dresser opposite his bed. He draws from his satchel a torn scrap of cloth.

The shirt had been white once, before it was Minhyuk’s. By the time of the fire, it was gray even when it was clean. After he’d gotten far enough from the village and had stolen a pair of clothes to change into, he’d paused before throwing his into the river. Without bothering to question why, he bit into a sleeve and ripped off a piece to keep. A symbol of what he left behind.

He sets the scrap of gray fabric on top of the dresser. It’s a pathetic decoration, and lies so flat that once he sits down on his bed, he can barely see it. But still, he’s spread himself out over the room.

The last item in his satchel is his most precious, and most painful. It’s buried deep in an inner pocket, and he can’t bear to take it out now.

* * *

_I have something for you._

It was Minhyuk’s twentieth birthday. Hoseok had him by the hand, was pulling him through the woods, his pace somewhere between a run and a skip.

_I have something for you._

_Okay!_ Minhyuk laughed, trying not to trip over roots and stones in his attempt to keep up. _I heard you the first time! Are you taking me to your hunting cabin?_

Hoseok’s hunting cabin sat in a clearing not far from the part of the river where they’d first met. Rather than a cabin, it was more of an overlarge shed, or a very small house. His father had originally given it to him as a place to rest during his hunts, but Hoseok had never mastered the art of killing animals, never even tried. Minhyuk was the one who gave the hunting cabin its name, mostly to tease him.

The weather was cooling down, the air sharp against Minhyuk’s cheeks, but the sun still offered a touch of warmth. He didn’t get cold very easily, despite being thinner than Hoseok, who was bundled up tight in a winter cloak.

The trees broke suddenly, offering up a view of the cabin and the grassy slope rising behind it. The sun had already begun its slow descent through the sky, so the grass and trees were tinted gold.

Hoseok let them inside the cabin and immediately got a fire roaring. Minhyuk loved everything about this place, from the quilts adorning the walls to the cloaks and coats hanging on the hooks beside the door, to Hoseok’s books stacked on the rickety table off to one side. It felt lived in. It was cramped, but it was a place they’d made their own. Minhyuk had a spare fishing pail and a net in the corner, and one of his sketchbooks was in the clutter somewhere.

He sat down on the ledge beneath the window, which was covered in blankets and was originally meant to serve as a makeshift bed should Hoseok ever stay out hunting late at night. That never happened, though Minhyuk and Hoseok had slept in it sometimes, squeezed together in the narrow space.

After stoking the fire, Hoseok took the books off of the table and carried it over to Minhyuk. He picked up a container that had been by the door and placed it on top. Then he sat beside Minhyuk, his nose and ears still pink from being outside, his hands twisting together in excitement.

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows at the container on the table. _Is that my birthday gift?_

It was strange-looking metal case, a little over a foot tall, with a handle at the top for carrying.

_I tried to be careful with it,_ Hoseok said, unlatching the metal fastenings on the side and opening it up. _It’s cold now, but I asked the cooks to prepare your favorites._

Inside were three separate levels, like small shelves, with three plates, each piled high with food.

_This one’s rabbit,_ Hoseok said, taking the first plate out _. And this one’s boar, which you haven’t tried before –_

_How do you know it’ll be my favorite if I haven’t tried it before?_

_Because._ Hoseok grinned. _You like everything._

There was duck breast and goose liver, and vegetables cooked in sauces that made them taste like meats, and a thick slice of bread that was gritty and filling, delectable when soaked into the sauces. It all melted on Minhyuk’s tongue. He couldn’t help the sounds he made, moans of appreciation that spread Hoseok’s smile from ear to ear.

Last was a delicate candied fruit dish that left the taste of sweetness on Minhyuk’s tongue long after he’d finished it. _It’s meals like this that make me wish I lived in a castle,_ he said, leaning back against the window, hands on his bulging stomach.

_The food is the best part, to be honest,_ Hoseok said. He swiped a bit of sauce from the corner of Minhyuk’s mouth, then sucked it off his thumb. _I’ll bring you whatever you want, whenever you want. All you have to do is ask._ He set a hand on Minhyuk’s knee, and said softer, _Your wish is my command._

Minhyuk snorted. The windowpane was warm against the back of his neck. The fire crackled in the hearth, and had already warmed the cabin up. He yawned, eyes sliding shut. _You’ve probably already raised enough suspicion without smuggling entire feasts out of the castle all the time._

_My father doesn’t care what I do,_ Hoseok said, sounding a little bit smug. _I’m old enough for him to trust me, and for him to not meddle in my affairs._

Minhyuk quirked an eyebrow. _Then you_ really _shouldn’t do anything to make him realize how much of a mistake that is._

They both laughed. Hoseok squeezed Minhyuk’s knee.

_I have another gift for you._

Minhyuk tilted his head against the window. His eyes were heavy, but he opened them. _A pillow?_

Hoseok chuckled. _Something smaller._ His other hand was in the inner pocket of his cloak. He hesitated for a moment, but met Minhyuk’s eyes and pulled it out, his fist closed tight.

His knee bumped Minhyuk’s. Nervous energy. He turned his hand over, opened his fingers. A golden ring lay in his palm, strung through with a fine golden chain. Both were simple at first glance, but when his hand shifted slightly, the light illuminated the subtle carvings all around the outside of the ring.

_I had it made for you,_ Hoseok said, his voice pitching up with nerves. _I figured you might find it uncomfortable on your finger, since you never wear jewelry and you’re always using your hands, but if you don’t want the chain, you don’t have to take that part. Um, you don’t have to take any of it, if you don’t want it. I just thought… maybe it was foolish…_

Minhyuk broke into a smile so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t split in two. His heart jumped in his chest.

_You’re not asking me to marry you, are you?_ he joked, though even as he said it his heart thumped harder.

Hoseok laughed, lowering his head, cheeks coloring. He took Minhyuk’s hand, let the ring tumble onto his palm. _No. And besides, royalty is only allowed to wed royalty. The lowest I can marry is another prince or princess._

The chain practically melted through Minhyuk’s fingers, like sand, like water. The links were so fine, doubled and tripled over each other in a way that made his head spin trying to imagine someone crafting them by hand. The chain wasn’t thick, but he could tell it was strong.

_Do you like it?_

Minhyuk met Hoseok’s eyes, cheeks straining at the force of his happiness. _I love it._

Hoseok’s fingers brushed his, taking the ring once again.

_Turn around._

Minhyuk did. Hoseok reached over him, so that the ring thumped gently against his chest. He clasped the chain behind Minhyuk’s neck, kissing his nape as he let it go. Minhyuk held it up to his face, turning it around slowly to marvel and the designs carved into the metal – curlicues that made him think of wind, or the current of the river.

_Happy birthday,_ Hoseok whispered.

Minhyuk turned and pressed his mouth to Hoseok’s, dropping the ring to tangle his fingers into Hoseok’s hair. _Thank you,_ he breathed against Hoseok’s lips, before Hoseok kissed him back.

The cabin grew hotter. Hoseok shed his cloak, and Minhyuk got to work untying the front of Hoseok’s shirt, his fingers now adept at working with all the knots and loops. Except today he was trying to move too fast, needed to feel Hoseok against him _now,_ and in his impatience he only made the knots tighter.

_Just once, could you wear something simple?_ he grunted, tugging helplessly at the laces.

Hoseok just snorted at him, then ducked and kissed his neck. _I don’t own anything simple._

Minhyuk gave up and tried to pull the shirt over Hoseok’s head, though it got stuck around his ears. They both ended up breathless with laughter once they finally got it off, and Hoseok’s hair ended up a mess.

_I like this look,_ Minhyuk said, running his hands through it, mussing up the dark strands further. The flush had darkened in Hoseok’s ears, and his eyes were bright and his smile brighter. He was the most beautiful person Minhyuk had ever seen. It was still a wonder to him that Hoseok was real, hot and solid and pliant to his touch, all his.

Hoseok pulled Minhyuk’s tunic off with ease, then drew Minhyuk in for another kiss, hands roaming his back, his sides, dragging up his chest. This much they had done before.

Minhyuk tugged at the fastenings of Hoseok’s pants, worked them open and pushed them down his hips. Hoseok did the same for him. They both kicked off their pants and their undergarments. Hoseok moaned when Minhyuk took hold of him, and then he reached for Minhyuk. This much they had done before, too.

The sounds of their breathing filled the cabin. Hoseok slouched into Minhyuk with his face against Minhyuk’s neck. Minhyuk’s head was tipped back against the window, his eyes shut, breath spilling from his lips and his thighs spread wide.

_Wait,_ Hoseok huffed against his neck.

Minhyuk cracked his eyes open just as Hoseok peeled himself away to reach for his cloak on the floor. He drew something from another of the pockets, then faced Minhyuk. Licked his lips, and showed him a fancy vial with a crystal stopper, filled with a golden-colored oil.

His voice cracked when he said, _I wondered if you wanted to try._

Minhyuk understood, with a pang of fear and of excitement. He nodded. _Yeah._

Hoseok smiled, then leaned in and kissed him slowly. Minhyuk pulled his legs up onto the ledge, one on either side of Hoseok. He pulled Hoseok to him, dropped his forehead onto Hoseok’s shoulder when Hoseok took ahold of him again. A shudder ran through him. His toes curled.

Hoseok laid him down gently on the blankets, kissing all over his chest, one hand hooked behind his knee, spreading his leg out and open. Minhyuk’s skin tingled everywhere Hoseok’s lips landed. They’d done this much, too – body to body, rubbing against each other, gasping and moaning and crying out as they came, but today they were going to go farther.

_Tell me if you want to stop._

_Okay,_ Minhyuk said, head heavy, eyelids heavy, breath heavy in anticipation.

It was messy and fumbling, Hoseok’s fingers pushing into him. The newness of it was uncomfortable, the fact that neither of them really knew what they were doing. But it was comforting figuring it out with Hoseok, who was nervous and careful, who wouldn’t stop asking if he was okay, who reminded him to breath and broke into anxious giggles whenever Minhyuk did, whenever their eyes met.

The fingers even felt good after a little bit, strange but no longer in an unpleasant way. Suddenly they felt great, and Minhyuk gasped at the pleasure that burst through him.

_Okay?_ Hoseok asked.

_Yeah,_ Minhyuk said, rocking his hips.

It was different with Hoseok inside of him, startling and painful and overwhelming. Minhyuk grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, had to remember not to hold his breath. Hoseok waited, pressing tender kisses to his forehead, whispering things Minhyuk only half heard. But it was too much.

_I don’t think I can do this,_ he finally said in a rush of breath. _Sorry, I really can’t._

It was bad, but not completely. A disaster they managed to salvage. It was meaningful, and once Hoseok’s fingers were back inside of him and that tantalizing pleasure was building again, he was able to look up into Hoseok’s face as his head fogged, was able to see something so tender and so blazing in Hoseok’s gaze.

He choked on Hoseok’s name, couldn’t hear what Hoseok was saying, couldn’t keep his eyes open. He felt like he was falling apart and coming together. His legs tingled, his arms tingled, his entire body was short-circuiting. He came suddenly, gasping, Hoseok’s hand caressing his hip. And then his ears rushed, and rushed, and rushed.

Afterwards, they lay together on the blankets, Minhyuk’s head on Hoseok’s chest, Hoseok dozing off beneath him.

_Hey,_ Minhyuk whispered.

It earned him a sleepy _Hm?_ A deep rumble in Hoseok’s chest.

_I love you._

Hoseok giggled and slung an arm over Minhyuk’s waist.

_I love you, too._

The ring lay on Hoseok’s chest, right in front of Minhyuk’s nose. He slipped the tip of his index finger through it. Even though he didn’t live in a castle with fine foods and fine jewelry, even though his reality and Hoseok’s were worlds apart… even though Minhyuk’s life wasn’t the most luxurious, in that moment he thought that as long as it had Hoseok in it, it would be the happiest.

* * *

When Hoseok arrives with Minhyuk’s breakfast the following morning, his eyes catch on the sketchbook.

“Are you still drawing?” he asks, setting the tray down and taking a seat, the mattress creaking. Minhyuk sits up against the headboard and crosses his legs under the covers, blinking sleep from his eyes.

Hoseok looks soft today, like his edges have been smudged. Tired eyes, hair not groomed as well as it should be, shirt simpler than usual – a loose white fabric that’s beginning to slip off of one shoulder. He must have slept in. Minhyuk looks toward the window. The sun is indeed higher in the sky than it typically is when Hoseok wakes him for breakfast.

“Sometimes,” Minhyuk replies. “Actually, I haven’t for a while.”

Hoseok must be able to tell that he doesn’t want to talk about it, because he turns his attention fully toward Minhyuk and says, “I have something to show you.”

Minhyuk raises his eyebrows.

“Eat first,” Hoseok says. He nudges the tray toward Minhyuk, who picks up the fork.

Minhyuk doesn’t miss the way Hoseok stares at his wrists, eyes roaming the knobs of his bones. He’s always been thin, but a life with less money than the negligible amount he had before, and without the tools to catch his own food, has shrunk his appetite by necessity.

“Your forehead…”

Hoseok’s words trail out. He touches the pad of his index finger to Minhyuk’s forehead, then brushes it down between his eyebrows. Minhyuk suppresses a shiver.

“What happened?” Hoseok asks.

Minhyuk shakes his head. Hoseok withdraws his hand quickly, like he’s been stung.

“It was when I fell into the lake,” Minhyuk says. “I rolled down the hill and hit my head on a rock.”

The wound had scabbed at first, a thick crust with the skin around it bruising purple and then yellow. The bruises faded and the scab healed slowly, peeled off a few times only to reform thinner and lighter, until it finally fell away for good, leaving a pink scar that eventually faded into the whitish crescent it is now. A shallow indent on Minhyuk’s forehead.

Hoseok stares at him, and Minhyuk can practically hear the question – _What else have you gone through?_ But Hoseok doesn’t ask.

After Minhyuk has eaten as much as he can, Hoseok takes him outside. Minhyuk feels like a ghost. He’s still in his sleep clothes, his hair tangled, his feet bare. The stones are warm on the thick skin of his heels. The grounds are quiet and sprawling, the grass such a fresh green, and the outer walls so tall.

“Where are we going?” he finally asks.

Hoseok looks over at him, smiles at his interest. “Not much farther. You’ll like it.”

They turn the corner and are at the stables. Hoseok leads him to the pasture out back, a great swathe of grass enclosed by a fence made of thick wooden posts. The air smells like animals and hay, with an undercurrent of manure. A thick scent, invigorating in a way.

Minhyuk has always loved animals – loved the horse Hoseok had a year and a half ago, a gentle mare who tickled his palms as she nuzzled carrots out of his hands. Minhyuk doesn’t see her in the pasture here, but he does see a horse and her foal grazing beneath a tree.

“She’s the gentlest mare I’ve ever met,” Hoseok says, watching the horses as well. He clicks his tongue, and they turn their heads in unison. He smiles at them, eyes squinting into crescents.

Minhyuk’s heart lurches against his ribcage. When he isn’t numb, being around Hoseok feels like a persistent ache throughout his entire body. A soreness that sits deep in his muscles, a discomfort dull enough that he can endure it, though enduring it exhausts him further.

A lock of Hoseok’s hair sticks out at a wild angle above his ear, which is pink from the sun. Minhyuk looks away, taking in a breath and holding it for longer than he needs to before slowly letting it out. It helps ease the bruising feeling.

The mare approaches calmly, ears and tail flicking away flies, eyes trained on Minhyuk. He holds out a hand, and she nuzzles against it without the slightest hesitation.

Hoseok laughs. “She trusts you even quicker than she trusted me.”

The foal, a scrawny thing with twigs for legs, sticks its head through the fence to nibble on the end of Minhyuk’s tunic.

“You’re both very curious, aren’t you?” he says to them. The mare cranes her head over the top post to nuzzle his cheek. Her breath tickles, and he flinches back with a laugh.

He looks toward Hoseok, and then again when he realizes Hoseok was staring at him.

“You look happy,” Hoseok says, and it’s only then that Minhyuk feels the smile on his face.

He feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t, which is ridiculous because he deserves to smile. At least a little bit, at least in a small moment like this. But the smile slips away, and when he looks back at the horses, numbness spreads back through him.

“What’s it like being the prince of your own kingdom?” he asks, trying to find something to latch onto.

There’s a stretch of silence, before Hoseok says, “It’s peaceful. Being a prince still isn’t very special, though.”

Minhyuk glances over. Hoseok has an eyebrow raised, is smirking slightly. Minhyuk breathes out a chuckle and looks back at the foal, which has let go of his tunic and is turning to trot away after its mother.

“You don’t have politics to deal with?”

“It’s a small kingdom,” Hoseok says. “And a peaceful one. Not strategically placed anywhere. My people aren’t in want of anything. My father leaves me well enough alone. I maintain a good relationship with the surrounding kingdoms. My people like me.”

He says this last part with pride, but pride that lacks ego. His affection knows no bounds.

“And you like them,” Minhyuk says.

“I do.”

“Do you even know them?”

“I know _of_ them. Their festivals, their biggest marketplaces, the largest farms, the best blacksmiths, things like that. And every now and then I’ll host parties, and they’re invited to attend.”

“But they can only get in if they look rich enough, or if they’re lucky.”

Hoseok sighs. “There are some rules I can’t really rewrite.” And then he taps Minhyuk’s elbow, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch him. “But you made it in.”

They stay at the pasture until the sun has risen a little higher, and then they bring the two horses into the stable to feed. As the mare takes the last bundle of hay from Minhyuk’s hand, Hoseok says, “Do you feel better today?”

Minhyuk shrugs. “A little bit.” He flinches when Hoseok’s hand settles against his cheek.

“Sorry,” Hoseok whispers, pulling his hand away.

“No, it’s just… You surprised me.”

Hoseok carefully sets his hand back onto Minhyuk’s cheek. When he doesn’t get a reaction, he strokes his thumb along Minhyuk’s cheekbone. A quiet smile pulls at his lips. He steps closer. Minhyuk knows what he’s going to do a moment before he does it, which gives him enough time to avoid it, but he doesn’t.

Hoseok’s lips meet his softly. Minhyuk’s body betrays him, eyes sliding shut.

And it suddenly feels the way things used to be. Him and Hoseok, the two of them, together, Hoseok’s arms going around him. Minhyuk gives in, opens up that desperate, deprived, wanting pit inside of him and lets all that need spill out, lets Hoseok fill him up.

Hoseok’s mouth moves against his, warm and wet and everything Minhyuk remembers. He clings to Hoseok, runs a hand into Hoseok’s hair, and Hoseok’s arms cinch around his waist, pulling him closer. The lines of their bodies press together. Minhyuk feels warmer and brighter, like the shadows are being chased out from his inner corners. He hasn’t been touched like this, hasn’t been held, in so long.

His heart pounds in his chest, frighteningly fast. This kiss doesn’t hold the warmth and security of their most recent ones, but the thrill of their first ones, when everything was new and they weren’t sure how long it would last. Hoseok bites his lower lip, tugs it gently with his teeth.

Minhyuk plants his palms against Hoseok’s chest. Hoseok doesn’t let him go, but does let him put space between them. Minhyuk waits for his heart to slow down, struggling to catch his breath. Goosebumps cover his body. Hoseok’s hands rest on his hips.

He swallows, tries not to feel too much of a pang at the desire in Hoseok’s eyes, the confusion and the hurt. Tries not to lean in and kiss him again.

“What about Kihyun?”

He hates how breathy his voice is, hates what they just did, hates that it felt so good but has just left his chest tighter than ever.

Hoseok frowns. “What about him?”

Minhyuk takes another step back, breaking Hoseok’s hold. “What do you mean, what about him? He’s your lover –”

“This has nothing to do with him. I’m with you right now.”

“But… But you’ll be with him later.”

“I… yes. But right now I’m with you, and that’s all I want to think about.” Hoseok starts to reach for him, but second guesses it and lets his hand drop back to his side. “I just want this to be about you. Us.”

“But how can you be with both of us? Actually _be_ with both of us?” Because Minhyuk understands what Hoseok ultimately wants – Kihyun and Minhyuk at the same time, two lovers, as though it’s a simple matter.

Minhyuk wants to stamp his feet, wants to pull at his hair, anything to make Hoseok understand how _not_ simple it is. But all Hoseok does is look at him, sad and more lost than ever.

“It isn’t hard,” Hoseok says, voice small. “I love you.”

“And him too?”

Hoseok opens his mouth, shuts it. He doesn’t answer, because he knows it will hurt Minhyuk to hear it.

* * *

Still, he starts trying to get them to spend time together – Kihyun and Minhyuk. But only when he’s around, because they have no reason to be near each other otherwise.

Minhyuk refuses the first few times Hoseok shows up with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes and Kihyun’s name on his tongue. But Hoseok and his damn persistence wear him down.

It’s strange being outside again. The sun is high in the sky but not too hot. Hoseok brings him to a corner of the grounds, nestled right where the two outer walls meet. A gravel path leads to a perfectly square patch of grass surrounded by perfectly-trimmed shrubbery. Wooden posts rise out of the grass here and there, with baskets fastened to the top of each of them.

And then of course there’s Kihyun, waiting for them on a bench. He’s in a dark tunic and dark pants, and his dark eyes watch them approach without emotion. His skin is lightly tanned, a color that promises to get richer once spring slides into summer.

He stands and says, “I don’t really like this game.”

“Come on, it’s a fun one,” Hoseok says, smiling at Kihyun, who doesn’t smile back but just lifts his eyebrows in a way that somehow expresses amusement.

The rules of the game are simple, but they slide around Minhyuk’s head, hard to grasp. Something about tossing a sack of sand into the baskets to earn points. The sunlight makes him sleepy, so he mostly just lets Hoseok guide him around with gentle touches, and misses every time he tries to score a point.

Kihyun tries a little bit harder, but Minhyuk can tell he’s not invested either. But unlike Minhyuk, he’s still enjoying himself well enough. _Tsk_ s when he misses, laughs under his breath when he makes it. Mostly laughs under his breath at Hoseok, who tries to be enthusiastic to ward away the quiet that coils tighter around them all.

“Don’t throw for that one.”

It takes Minhyuk a moment to process the words, and then process who said them to him. Kihyun’s dark eyes are looking his way. Minhyuk doesn’t know how long the game has been going. The sunlight is directly overhead.

“What?”

“Don’t throw for that one,” Kihyun says again, his voice steady. He’s standing beside one of the baskets, a slight frown on his lips.  

“Why?” Minhyuk asks.

Kihyun motions with his chin toward another basket, one Minhyuk hadn’t been facing. “You’ll get more points from that one.”

It’s like Minhyuk is really seeing him for the first time. This man who has taken over Hoseok’s bed and Hoseok’s heart, talking to him as though it’s natural, as though there’s no reason not to, as though they are simple acquaintances who have played this silly game together before.

Kihyun is short, but there’s something big about him – not really his presence, but the fact that it seems like it’d take a lot to bowl him over. He has that sort of directness to his gaze, a lack of self-consciousness, an ease with himself. He hasn’t looked away from Minhyuk for a moment, hasn’t even blinked.

“Minhyuk.”

A hand touches the small of Minhyuk’s back. Hoseok has come up beside him, wearing a smile that’s desperately trying to hide its concern. “He’s right. Go ahead and throw it.”

Minhyuk looks at Kihyun. Looks at the basket. Tosses the ball. It hits the rim and falls to the grass.

So Kihyun picks it up, drops it into the basket, and says, “My point.”

And even though Kihyun is quiet and keeps his affection to himself, and Hoseok does as well, Minhyuk can tell how comfortable they are together. It’s in the way they balance each other out. Kihyun is the anchor in Hoseok’s ever-churning waters, imparting calm and focus where Hoseok needs it. And Hoseok draws reactions out of Kihyun’s – the twitch of a smile, the exhaled beginning of a laugh, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. He and Hoseok probably don’t even realize how much Minhyuk sees.

And then sometimes they glance at Minhyuk in harmony. Whenever they do, he pretends he wasn’t looking, but their concern sits on his skin like a layer of soot.

When he sees the way Hoseok gravitates around Kihyun, and the way Kihyun’s affection shows itself as softly as a whisper, it feels like he's with two strangers rather than one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys are enjoying the story!

The three-person affairs keep on happening. Hoseok gets Minhyuk outside, and the three of them walk or play some sort of simple game in the grass. Hoseok is overly enthusiastic, Kihyun shows a silent dedication to whatever Hoseok expects them to do, and Minhyuk just goes along with it all to pass the time.

The strangest thing is that Kihyun shows him no hostility. He’ll look at Minhyuk directly, talk to him comfortably. His stare is unnerving. Everything about him is so forward, so self-assured but lacking any abrasiveness.

It would be easier if he tried to make Minhyuk jealous, if he tried to stake a claim over Hoseok, but he doesn’t do anything of the sort. So Minhyuk can’t even get angry at him, can’t even _dislike_ him, which is infuriating. Kihyun is a blank slate, just there, treating him with a vague sort of respect and disinterest.

Minhyuk comes across him in the halls of the castle one morning, on the way to a late breakfast. He’s learned that Hoseok leaves about three quarters into each meal on the days he doesn’t stop by Minhyuk’s room instead, so Minhyuk attends for the last quarter only.

Minhyuk turns the corner and jumps back when Kihyun nearly plows into him. Kihyun jumps back at the last moment as well, startled for just a second before he reigns that emotion in. He’d been hurrying somewhere, his head lowered and a look of extreme concentration pulling his eyebrows together. Now he stares at Minhyuk, eventually clearing his throat.

“Are you heading to breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk says.

“Do you want to eat at the high table with us from now on? Hoseok wants to ask, but he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Even _this_ Kihyun says like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like he has no stake in the matter at all.

“Aren’t you bothered by me being here?” Minhyuk asks.

Kihyun blinks. His expression hides nothing and shows nothing. “No,” he says, with a questioning tilt to his head, a little frown on his lips. “So do you want to, or not?”

Minhyuk pushes past him and continues on his way to the dining chamber.

* * *

He starts avoiding Hoseok’s visits, leaving his room early in the morning before Hoseok arrives. He finds a patch of lawn on the grounds hidden behind a flower garden, where he gets a clear view of the sky and the birds that fly overhead. Sometimes, from a window in the castle far above, he hears a faint strain of musical instruments, sometimes a choir singing.

He returns to his room late in the evenings, but after several days of avoiding Hoseok outright, he starts returning to find gifts laid out on his bedspread – sketchbooks, paints, expensive clothes. They only confirm what he already knew, that he can’t avoid Hoseok forever.

So tonight he returns to his room early, heads into the bathroom where the candles are lit and the water in the basin is still warm from when the servants brought it in. He uses the bucket to transfer enough water into the tub, dumps in some dry soap, then slips in. The water turns milky from the soap powder, swirling around the fingers he skims through it. He tries to relax.

Tonight, when Hoseok arrives, Minhyuk is going to tell him to stop. There’s nothing left to pursue between them. He’s tired, and Hoseok is sad, and there’s nothing to salvage from that. He’ll ask to stay in the castle until he’s ready to leave, and Hoseok will be even sadder, but Minhyuk will stand firm, so Hoseok will give in.

He sighs, the sound filling up the bathroom. Once the water has gone tepid he gets out and dries himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hair might be lighter than when he arrived, just a shade, but it’s hard to tell in the flickering of the candle flames.

The knock comes, a light rapping on the door. When Minhyuk answers, he’s greeted with Hoseok’s stunned expression.

“You’re here,” Hoseok says. Minhyuk wonders how long he waits every night, outside Minhyuk’s empty room, waiting for Minhyuk to return.

“I am.”

It takes a moment for Hoseok to find his voice again, but when he does, he says, “Come on a walk with me.”

The torches flicker along the walls, and moonlight spills through the windows. Hoseok takes Minhyuk down hallways, past guards who stand in eerie stillness. Finally, he leads Minhyuk up a spiraling staircase out into the brisk night air at the top of a tower.

Hair still wet from the bath, Minhyuk lets out a shiver. Hoseok notices, and takes off his coat to put it over Minhyuk’s shoulders.

“Why are we here?” Minhyuk asks, taking a step back.

Hoseok looks for something in his eyes, and doesn’t seem to be finding it.

“I don’t know. I just… I just wanted to take you somewhere.” His posture is defeated, shoulders slumping. Before Minhyuk can say anything, he continues with: “I’m sorry.”

The moonlight cuts across his face, throwing his grief into sharp relief. “I’m sorry for your discomfort, and for how surprised and hurt you must be about everything. I’m sorry that you feel like you need to avoid me. I’m just –” His voice cracks. “I’m sorry for all of it, for everything.”

He takes one of Minhyuk’s hands in both of his. Feeling how cold it is, he takes the other as well, cups them both between his.

“But my feelings for you are the same as they’ve always been.”

“You’ve said that already.” Minhyuk makes a feeble attempt to pull his hands from Hoseok’s, but Hoseok doesn’t let him go.

“I know I’ve said it before,” Hoseok says. “And I’ll say it again, because it’s true.” He squeezes Minhyuk’s hands, his own so warm. “I wanted to ask you to move into my room.”

The words seem to travel out into the night, hang out over the dark and silent grounds, and then dissipate into nothingness. Minhyuk almost scoffs, once he’s truly understood what Hoseok is asking of him.

“And if I say no? Will you order me to?”

“Of course not. I would never.” Hoseok lowers his eyes. “But I miss you. I feel like I never see you.”

“How –” Minhyuk’s voice rises and breaks. “How can you miss me? You don’t have anything to miss. You have everything. You have Kihyun. He shares your bed and he sits with you at the head table and you have him –”

“He isn’t _you_ , Minhyuk. _You’re_ you, and I _miss_ you.”

Minhyuk tugs his hands out of Hoseok’s grasp. “You can’t just expect me to be okay with this. With everything we had, you and me, you can’t just expect me to be okay with everything that’s going on here.”

“I don’t expect it… but I wonder if maybe you could try.”

Minhyuk laughs, high and harsh. He feels like his chest is caving in on itself. “Is this a prince thing? You’re just used to getting things your way, used to it all being so easy? Do you even hear what you’re asking of me? Do you really think any of this is fair?”

“I don’t –”

Minhyuk wishes his chest would just collapse so he didn’t have to feel this pain anymore, but it doesn’t, so he keeps talking, the grief rising up like poison. “You told me you wanted to have what we had before. But we didn’t _have_ Kihyun. As long as he’s here, or even if he just disappeared right now, because of him and because of all this, we’ll _never_ have what we once had.”

“I know,” Hoseok says, trying to talk fast. “But I –”

“But you can’t just get rid of him, I know. So I just have to be okay with it, then? Okay with you taking another lover, and then asking me back into your bed anyway?”

“That’s not what I’m asking –”

“Yes! It is!” Minhyuk’s voice shoots over the grounds, but he doesn’t care. Let everyone hear. He can’t remember the last time he was this loud. It’s surprising, thrilling, that his voice still holds this much power. “You just asked me to move into your room with you and your new lover! Put yourself in my place for one second! Would you be okay with all of this?”

“I don’t _know,”_ Hoseok says, eyes filling with tears, but he blinks them back. “I don’t know if I would! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I just –” He grabs at his hair, squeezes his head in his arms. “I don’t want to keep hurting you but I don’t know what to do! Everything I’ve told you up until now has been the truth. That’s all I can do. All I’ve done is be honest with you.”

Minhyuk takes a few deep breaths. His fingernails prick his palms, his hands held in tight fists. “I find you again after one and a half years, and you ask me to be a part of your relationship with another man. Do you really think you’re going about any of this the right way?”

“There’s no right way to do this!” Hoseok’s finally yelling too. It isn’t all anger, though. Part of it is anguish, but still.

This feel good. This feels real. They’ve both been pretending for too long, tiptoeing around _this_. This is what was supposed to happen weeks ago. The destruction of whatever was left of them. The ugly, bloody ruin of it.

“There’s no right way,” Hoseok shouts, tears spilling over his lashes and falling down his cheeks, “so I’m just doing it the honest way!”

“Well, honesty can hurt, Hoseok! You acting like I can just become part of your little fairytale _hurts._ You acting as though everything I’ve been through in the past eighteen months is just going to end in me slipping into bed with you two _hurts!_ I wasn’t looking for _him_ these past eighteen months! I was looking for _you!_ Because you were the last person I had left.” His voice breaks, but he carries on. “You’d promised me so. Damn. Much. Only to give it all away to someone else –”

“I didn’t give any of it away! It’s all here still!” Hoseok beats his fist into his chest, right above his heart. “I’m holding it all out to you right now, Minhyuk!”

“It’s not all still there! You took some of it and gave it to him! It isn’t the same as it used to be!”

“Why can’t it be? You can’t tell me how I feel!” Hoseok’s voice chokes out on a sob, and he presses a hand over his eyes.

Minhyuk just shakes his head. He wants to shout more. He wants to lie down in the dark and be still and silent for weeks. He wants so much, but none of it is this.

“You don’t understand,” he says, before turning on his heel and starting down the stairs into the dark.

“Please,” Hoseok calls after him, “please, just consider it! That’s all I ask!”

* * *

Minhyuk stares at the ceiling all night and heads out to the patch of lawn before the sun has fully risen the next morning, where he finally manages to sleep. He’s slowly waking up when a shadow falls over him, tinting the backs of his eyelids dark. He opens his eyes, squints at the halo around the figure above him.

“Hello.”

He recognizes Kihyun by his voice, and can’t help the sigh that escapes him.

Kihyun chuckles. “That unhappy to see me?”

“What is it?” Minhyuk asks groggily.

The shadowy figure above him shifts and the sun shines directly into his eyes, making him wince. He hears a rustle in the grass beside him, and turns his head and opens his eyes to find Kihyun sitting a careful distance away.  

“What is it?” Minhyuk asks again. “Actually, how did you know where to find me?”

Kihyun’s mouth shifts the slightest bit, maybe a smile. He tips his head back to look at the castle wall above them. “I can see you from my music room.”

“ _Your_ music room?”

“Ah, well, not really mine, but it’s where my choir meets.”

“Your choir.”

“I sing.” Kihyun looks down at Minhyuk. “Are you impressed?”

Minhyuk frowns, eyebrows knitting, nose scrunching. “No. Why would I be?”

Kihyun shrugs. “You seemed impressed that I called it _my_ music room.”

“Why are you here?”

That leaves Kihyun silent for a while, but he shouldn't have been expecting pleasantries. He sighs and starts speaking slowly. “I understand that you’re uncomfortable about the position you’ve found yourself in, but –”

Minhyuk scoffs. “Are you two scripting all this? Don’t you have better things to do than talk about me?”

“Hoseok has always liked talking about you.”

Minhyuk sits up, starts to get to his feet.

“But it pains him to talk about you now,” Kihyun says quickly, urgency stealing into his expression. “You’re both hurting. It’s plain as day.”

“It’s none of your business,” Minhyuk shoots over his shoulder as he stalks away.

“Please,” Kihyun calls after him, “just consider his request!”

* * *

Being with Hoseok wasn’t always like living moments out of a fairytale. Hiding their relationship wasn’t difficult, but it was difficult knowing that it was necessary to.

When he was younger, Minhyuk played with the boys and girls of the village, running down to the stream to pelt each other with clumps of mud, playing hide and seek among the storage sheds, crafting up a new game for every new day. He loved making friends and making jokes, loved being the center of attention. And he’d remained friends with many of the children who grew up alongside him. The ones who didn’t leave the village turned to work to try to put food on the table and money in their families’ pockets, so Minhyuk saw them often enough.

If the ring around his neck had been from anyone else, he would have shown it off when he ran into his friends in the village square, but instead he kept it tucked deep under his shirt. It was easy to forget about the history between his and Hoseok’s families when he was with Hoseok, but it was easy to remember it when he was home.

And then winter came.

It was a winter of shortages. The crops hadn’t been flourishing as they usually did, and now that the fields were dead with cold, the storage houses weren’t filled enough to last through to the next season.

It was a wet winter, the rains absolutely frigid, overflowing the rivers that were barren of fish. Minhyuk sloshed through the water, numb up to his shins, fingers stiff with cold. Sometimes he caught a single fish, but often he caught none, which meant there were never extra to sell. More often than not on his walks back home, his eyelashes went stiff with tears of frustration that he refused to let fall.

It was a hungry winter, a winter when he asked Hoseok more than he was proud of to bring food when they met, which he in turn brought home to his mother, who wanted to ask where it came from but never did, grateful for any meal at all.

It was a bitter winter, and that bitterness seeped into the moments Minhyuk had with Hoseok, who just couldn’t wrap his head around the concepts of empty stomachs and damp firewood and drafty homes, thin blankets and chattering teeth and mattresses stuffed with musty straw.

_You should just live here,_ Hoseok said, motioning around the hunting cabin. The fire was roaring. Minhyuk’s face and fingers were thawing. Hoseok was kneading one of his hands to get the blood flowing.

_I can’t leave my –_

_You and your mother can both live here._

Minhyuk huffed out a laugh, bitter like everything else. Outside the window, the sky was gray and the ground was cracked with ice.

_There isn’t enough room. I know you might not believe it, but my house is_ _actually bigger than this place._

_Of course I believe it,_ Hoseok said. He laced his fingers with Minhyuk’s, but the tension lingered. _You’ve been in a bad mood recently._

_Of course I’ve been in a bad mood. It’s cold and I’m hungry, my mother’s hungry, my village is hungry and cold and every day is horrible._

_Maybe I can help._

_How? You father hates us. You don’t have any power to do anything._

_Well…_ Hoseok met Minhyuk’s eyes tentatively. _I don’t know, then._

_Yeah, me neither._

_I can at least try to make you happy when you’re with me._

Minhyuk pulled his hand out of Hoseok’s.

_It’s not that easy, Hoseok. You live a life of luxury, so I get how you think things just work out for everybody, but you’re_ not _everybody, and everybody isn’t as lucky as you are. Not everybody gets a fairytale life. Maybe a secret relationship can be all fun and thrill for you, but for me it’s a reminder of everything I’ll never have and will have to give up one day anyway._

Hoseok’s eyes widened. _What do you mean, give up?_

_Seriously, Hoseok? This can’t last. Maybe it will for a while longer, maybe a lot longer, but probably not. You’re a prince._ _You’re going to get married, have a kingdom, have royal duties. Bigger duties than me. I won’t be in your life then._

_I won’t get married,_ Hoseok said, with a stubborn shake of his head. _I won’t, until I’m allowed to marry who I want, and then I’ll marry you and bring you to the castle and –_

Minhyuk took Hoseok’s face in his hands, and not gently. _Hoseok,_ he said, looking into Hoseok’s eyes with intensity enough for Hoseok to press his lips together. _You will never be able to marry me. We will_ never _have a future together. I’ve had to live in a harsh reality my entire life, so I’ve already been able to accept this into it. You’re going to have to work hard to accept it also._

He wasn’t surprised that Hoseok teared up, and wasn’t surprised that it tore him up to see it. He missed the easy days, the elation back at the beginning of it all, Hoseok’s laughter and his own laughter and their kisses that filled him up with tenderness.

_But I can’t imagine a future without you,_ Hoseok whispered. _Maybe you’re just giving up too easily._

_No, Hoseok,_ Minhyuk said, getting to his feet. He crossed to the door, shrugged on his threadbare coat, laid his hand on the door handle. _I’m just living in reality._

* * *

Minhyuk slams the door to his room behind him, then snatches his satchel off the bed and launches it into the wall. It connects with a lackluster _fwump_ , and then falls to the floor with just as lifeless a sound.

And then he falls to the floor as well, sitting with his head in his hands. A shout builds up at the back of his throat. He lets it out in a long, low, guttural growl. It feels like the bitter winter is filling him up all over again.

His mother once told him that grief comes in phases. He must be at anger now. It rolls through him, slow but powerful, prickling in his arms and legs, wrapping its hands around his neck. It’d be so easy to drown in it. He almost wants to.

_Be wary of actions that are spurred by rage,_ his mother told him. _Rage leads to recklessness, and that’s when we hurt ourselves._

But Minhyuk is already hurting, and besides, he has no outlet for any recklessness. The rage is just going to burn him up from the inside out.

He wishes he had never come back. Wishes he had never set out to find Hoseok again. Wishes he’d never known where to start looking.

* * *

The morning that he heard Prince Hoseok had been given his own kingdom, he was eating a meager breakfast of dry bread, paid for by his even more meager earnings. He’d taken on work as a fisherman in a small port town, where the air was tangy in a fresh, ripe way.

After a day on the ocean, the sea spray would leave a film on his face that tasted of salt. His legs had become used to the tilt and sway of a boat beneath his feet as much as they were used to the solid ground he returned to every night. He slept in a squat room that made Hoseok’s hunting cabin look like a palace. He ate in the market square with the other fishermen. And at mealtimes he heard the news that traveled from trader’s mouths.

It was a life he’d been living for a month when news of Hoseok passed through.

_It’s that Shin prince, the lily-hearted one. His father’s finally sending him off to his own palace, probably got tired of him sticking around like a limpet._

The words came from the mouth of a grizzled man with a scar through one eye and a knotted beard that hung down to his round belly. Minhyuk listened with his eyes on his plate, waiting, hoping to hear what he needed. And then he did – Hoseok’s kingdom was far to the north.

He returned to his room after breakfast instead of heading to the docks. In the cracked, dull mirror over his bed, he looked at his reflection. His skin was bronzed from days under the sun, making his hair, pulled into a short braid, look shockingly white. The scar mottling his forehead was still pink. He looked like a stranger to himself, not at all who he felt like. He still dreamed of the smoke of his burning village, and of his and Hoseok’s final goodbyes.

And now, finally, there was word of his old life. A kingdom to the north. He was already packing up his satchel, already dulling his memories of the past month, the most recent identity he'd taken.

With a few coins in his pockets, Minhyuk left his room, left the port town, and aimed north. 

* * *

He wakes up the next morning feeling dangerous. He has a hard time opening his eyes. There’s a crust on his eyelashes, like he fell asleep crying only he doesn’t remember doing so. He’s antsier than he’s ever been, feels something like a hot, hard ball of coal sitting in his chest, squeezed in between his lungs.

He feels weak, too. The blood rushes out of his head when he gets out of bed, and he braces himself against the mattress to keep from falling over. His surroundings swim before his eyes. He doesn’t remember eating dinner last night, either.

He makes it to the dining chamber early into breakfast. It’s busy, so nobody notices him slip into a seat near the door, not even Kihyun and Hoseok up front. Minhyuk watches them, bent low over his plate, trying to remain unseen. He doesn’t have to try hard.

Kihyun leans over to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear, a smirk tugging gently at the corner of his mouth. Hoseok laughs quietly and whispers something back, then kisses Kihyun’s cheek. They’re beautiful together. Their love fills the entire chamber.

Minhyuk has been invited closer to that, but they can’t actually want him, can they?

He eats a hunk of bread, doughy and hot from the oven, taking bites that are too large and that scald his tongue, nearly get stuck in his throat on the way down. Mealtime conversation buzzes in his ears, like gnats, like the flies that used to gather around the fish in the market of that port town. Once he finishes his hunk of bread, he stands and leaves.

He waits for them outside the dining chamber, down the side hallway where their exit is. It’s a narrower hallway meant for privacy, but there were no guards to prevent him from going down it. So he stands with his back against the rough stone wall and waits, nervousness bubbling and popping in his chest, or maybe it’s still that anger. He can feel the bread at the base of his throat, ready to come back up, but he fights the nausea.

Sure enough, voices eventually approach. Kihyun comes through first, and spots him mid-sentence. Hoseok is a step behind, and when he sees Minhyuk, his eyes go round.

Before either of them can speak, Minhyuk says, “I’ll move into your room.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends pretty painfully, but I consider it the end of the first arc. The next arc is the healing arc. I hope you're enjoying it - please comment!

The next day, soldiers arrived at the village. Royal soldiers with insignia on their cloaks, their horses fitted with expensive saddles and riding gear. Minhyuk heard a commotion in the village square and rushed out to find them trooping in, the horses plodding deep puddles into the muddy ground. All around, villagers watched from doorways, anxious, mistrustful, afraid.

And then Hoseok’s voice came from somewhere within the procession, splitting the half-silence: _Distribute the goods._

Soldiers hopped off their horses to gather heavy sacks from their carts and began carrying them from door to door, handing them off to the people inside. It didn’t take long for word to spread – the castle was providing them food, and blankets, and even dry firewood!

Minhyuk could hardly believe it. He set off through the ranks of soldiers, boots sinking into the mud as he searched, needing to confirm what he thought. He pushed past nameless soldiers, able to tell just from a touch that they weren’t who he was looking for. Mud squelched beneath his boots, water seeped into the holes and soaked his socks. His breath puffed out white in the frigid air.

He turned a corner, and Hoseok was there. He caught Minhyuk’s arms, tried to shush him but Minhyuk was already talking.

_Hoseok, was this you –_

_Quiet,_ Hoseok hissed, dragging Minhyuk farther around the corner. They were between two houses, still near the town square, and he glanced worriedly over Minhyuk’s shoulder. Under his breath, he said in a hurry, _I can’t talk with you now. Meet me tomorrow._

With a squeeze to Minhyuk’s arms, he was gone, back toward the center of the town, his cloak swishing, sodden, behind him.

Minhyuk arrived at the hunting cabin the next day and only had to knock his knuckles once against the door before Hoseok was opening it and pulling him inside. Minhyuk found himself pressed to Hoseok’s chest, Hoseok’s arms tight around him. The cabin was warm but Hoseok’s hair still smelled like frost.

_Was that all your doing yesterday?_ Minhyuk asked, wrapping his arms around Hoseok, burrowing his face into Hoseok’s neck. Hoseok flinched at the coldness, but didn’t draw back.

_It was._

_How? How did you manage to do all that?_

_It isn’t important._ Hoseok gently disengaged Minhyuk from him, took a step back to kiss Minhyuk’s nose. _Were there enough supplies for everyone?_

_There were-_ Minhyuk started to say, but then he saw Hoseok’s face and sucked in a breath.

The skin all around his left eye was blue-black, fading into red down on his cheekbone. His eye itself was swollen partially shut. He averted his gaze from Minhyuk’s.

_Hoseok…_ Minhyuk’s voice was barely a whisper. He cupped Hoseok’s cheek in his hand. Hoseok winced slightly, but didn’t move away.

_Are you okay?_

_It’s fine. My father doesn’t know why I did what I did. He doesn’t even think it was personal, just that I was being a sentimental fool for no good reason. He’s not going to take back what I gave your village._

_That’s not what I’m asking. I mean, are_ you _okay? Your face…_

Hoseok turned his face into Minhyuk’s touch, his eyes fluttering shut. _It’s fine. It’ll heal._

_Was it your father who did this to you?_

Hoseok quirked a bitter smile. _Yes. But please don’t worry about me. Now your village will make it through the rest of the winter. And my father has taken all the revenge he will on me. So for once, please, stop worrying._

Minhyuk shook his head. He placed his other hand on Hoseok’s good cheek, his heart full and painful. _I can’t._

_Then, at least for a little bit, could you let me help you stop?_ Hoseok covered Minhyuk’s hands with his own, looked into Minhyuk’s eyes, patient and sad and wanting so badly to help.

The word ‘No’ sat on Minhyuk’s tongue, but what he said instead was _I love you._

Hoseok kissed him tenderly, but Minhyuk kissed back with heat, pulling Hoseok to him and feeling some small parts of him patching up when Hoseok took hold of his waist and pressed closer.

_Thank you,_ Minhyuk breathed, and _I missed you,_ and _I’m sorry._

Hoseok just held him and kissed him, let himself be laid down on the ledge beneath the window, let Minhyuk crawl over him and undo the laces of his shirt and pull it over his head, careful the whole time with his eye. He arched into the touch as Minhyuk kissed down his chest and stomach, made deep, rich sounds in his throat. His body radiated heat.

_I love you too,_ Hoseok said as Minhyuk was unfastening his pants, and it made Minhyuk pause.

He looked up at Hoseok, who was flushed and breathing fast, who was hard, but who was looking at him with such tenderness. Minhyuk’s throat closed up, his eyes prickled with gathering tears. He moved back up over Hoseok to kiss him. His chest was so tight, and only went tighter as Hoseok’s arms wound around him, as Hoseok sighed into their kiss.

He broke away from Hoseok’s lips to kiss his jaw, then his throat, one hand still working at the fastening of his pants. He got them open and pushed them down, Hoseok lifting his hips to help. Hoseok’s breath quickened, and soon he was gasping and rutting into Minhyuk’s hand.

Minhyuk left him for a moment to look for the vial of oil, found it, hurried back. He prepared Hoseok carefully but with haste, eyes flicking up time and again to watch the part of Hoseok’s lips, the furrow of his brow, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed and the vein throbbing in his neck as he threw his head back in pleasure.

He was inside of Hoseok soon, already halfway gone, falling to pieces as Hoseok moaned beneath him. There was something desperate about all of it, about the tears clinging to his eyelashes, about Hoseok grabbing onto him, fingers digging into Minhyuk’s back as his cries filled the cabin. Too desperate, too fast, too needy, but Minhyuk couldn’t stop.

Afterwards, he lay with his head on Hoseok’s chest, a familiar position but an unfamiliar pit swirling in his gut. _This won’t last,_ he said, his voice broken in his throat, his eyelashes still wet. He had an arm slung across Hoseok’s waist, felt the warmth of Hoseok’s skin and the gentle rise and fall of Hoseok’s body as he breathed. _It’s already falling apart._

_It’ll last,_ Hoseok said, voice just as spent, but there was surety in it. He covered Minhyuk’s arm with his own, gently rubbed his thumb against the crook of Minhyuk’s elbow. _It doesn’t have to be perfect. But we’ll last, Minhyuk._

* * *

He arrives late to Hoseok’s room, after hesitating in his old one for far too long.

All his belongings have been moved already, leaving the room he’d barely begun to make his own barren once again. He stands in the center of it for a long while, staring at the starry sky through the window, and wonders if he might just end up standing here all night long.

Hoseok isn’t coming for him. But part of him – the part of him that knows Hoseok so well – knows that Hoseok is just giving him space, letting him take his time.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking, agreeing to move back into Hoseok's room. He wishes he could dig the anxiety out of his chest but it just burrows deeper and deeper, making his entire body tingly and weak and faint. If nothing else, he has to go to Hoseok’s room to get his belongings back, so eventually he makes his way through the castle.

Two guards stand at the end of the hallway, bathed in moonlight and absolutely still. Their eyes flash off of Minhyuk as he passes, but they don’t stop him. They’re expecting him, of course. He feels like a ghost, drifting through the castle without a sound, feet barely even touching the floor.

Halfway down the hall is the single door, which Minhyuk pushes open without pausing to think himself out of it. The narrow hallway beyond is quiet, and a glow of lamplight filters through the hanging curtains at the end. He can tell they’re there – can feel their presence, their held breaths. He shuts the door behind him before he can make himself leave.

The glow of the lamplight gets brighter as he approaches the curtains, and the fog in his head gets thicker. He pushes through the fabric into the windowless room, wide and spacious and lit by several oil lamps on every wall and candles on the surfaces. It’s warm, the air thick and fragrant – incense, probably.

They’re both in bed, that massive bed larger than any bed has a right to be. They’re sitting up against the headboard, plenty of space between them – and Minhyuk knows that that is staged, that they wouldn’t usually be sitting so far apart.

They’re both dressed in loose sleep clothes, are both reading, or had been at least – there’s a thick book in Kihyun’s lap, and an old-looking scroll in Hoseok’s. Now they both look at him unblinkingly, still holding their breaths, waiting for someone to speak first.

“Minhyuk,” Hoseok finally says, as though he can’t quite believe that Minhyuk actually came. He sets the scroll aside, hurries to get out of bed. A hopeful smile takes to his lips as he pads across the room, as he takes Minhyuk by the elbows and says, “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk says, eyes going past Hoseok. He finds his satchel on the nightstand at Hoseok’s side of the bed.

“It’s late,” Hoseok says. “Come, sleep, you look tired. Everything else can wait until morning.”

Gently, he steers Minhyuk to the bed. Minhyuk is aware of Kihyun watching, but he doesn’t really care. He’s managed to detach himself enough. Hoseok sits him down on the edge of the bed, then goes around extinguishing the lamps.

Next to his satchel on the nightstand, Minhyuk notices something he never thought he’d see again. His face, smiling out of a small golden frame. Hoseok used to keep the portrait in his hunting cabin. The painting is done in deep, warm colors, even warmer in the dim room.

“Minhyuk?”

He becomes aware of Hoseok standing before him.

“Is it all right if I leave a few candles lit so Kihyun can read some more?” Hoseok asks.

“Yeah.”

Hoseok nods, gives a weak smile. He glances at the portrait as well, but says nothing about it. Instead, he climbs onto the bed and into the middle of it, pulls the covers back. “Get comfortable.”

Minhyuk looks past him at Kihyun, whose attention is back on his book. His hair falls over his eyes, and the candlelight flickers over his face. Minhyuk can’t get a read on him.

He brings his legs up onto the mattress and lays himself down at the very edge of the bed, turns his back on the men behind him. The covers are pulled up over him, and then Hoseok’s chest presses against his back.

Minhyuk tenses, on the verge of bolting. For a second the fog leaves him completely, and he’s aware of where he is and what’s happening and his heart starts to race, panic fills him up, white noise clogs his ears.

Lips press against his shoulder, and he flinches.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hoseok says. When Minhyuk doesn’t reply, he loosens his hold slightly, but doesn’t draw away.

Minhyuk focuses first on breathing, and second on dulling his senses. He has to focus on something to remove himself from the moment, but all that’s in front of him is the portrait on the nightstand. So as Hoseok spoons against him, and the candles flicker, and the pages of Kihyun’s book turn, Minhyuk stares at the portrait and remembers the story of it.

* * *

_I found a place,_ he said, when Hoseok joined him at their meeting place behind the rocks. He took Hoseok’s hand, started pulling him along. _You’ll like it._

The rains had finally ended, leaving behind a spell of warmer, drier weather.

He and Hoseok had lasted through the bitter winter. The supplies Hoseok had brought the village were never taken back, so the villagers’ hunger abated, and they were comfortable enough. It was easier to be with Hoseok when things were easier back at home, so Minhyuk had started to hope again. That Hoseok was right – that they would last. Under a sunny sky, anything seemed possible.

The reeds were taller than them both, and extended far enough away from the banks of the river that they could walk through them without running the risk of their feet sinking down into swampy mud.

_This is incredible!_ Hoseok said, elation sending his voice spiraling up into the sky, bright as the sun overhead.

_Isn’t it?_ Minhyuk said, turning around to take Hoseok’s hands and lead him a little further in. The reeds brushed past them, and the world all around was green and smelled like plant life. He stopped walking and pulled Hoseok to him. _There’s plenty of sunlight, but it’s also very…_ He pressed his lips to Hoseok’s for a long but gentle kiss, and then pulled back to grin. _Private._

Hoseok drew him back in, smiling into their next kiss.

And so the reeds became their new place, where they could hide out under the sun as summer slowly brightened the sky, where they continued to pretend – believing it once again – that they could be together.

Today they were playful, chasing each other through the reeds. Minhyuk pounced and pushed Hoseok down to the ground. The reeds shook and rustled, and before Hoseok could do much more than let out a shout of surprise, Minhyuk was climbing on top of him and pinning him down with hands on his chest.

_You’ve been bulking up,_ Minhyuk said, admiring the planes of Hoseok’s chest, sturdy through his clothes.

_I’ve been trying to impress you._

_Oh?_ Minhyuk grinned, feeling his way over Hoseok’s shoulders, down his arms. _It’s working._

The ring fell out of Minhyuk’s collar and hung down between them. Hoseok reached up to hold it between his thumb and forefinger, his smile so soft and full of love. It was a perfect moment; every day was perfect and peaceful and complete.

_I wish I could give you something too,_ Minhyuk said. Hoseok’s eyes went past the ring to meet his. _Maybe you’d settle for a fish I just caught? You could have your cook turn it into something delicious._

Hoseok laughed, letting go of the ring to rest a hand on the back of Minhyuk’s neck. _You don’t need to give me anything. You’ve given me this already._ He poked Minhyuk’s chest, right above his heart.

_How can you be sure?_ Minhyuk teased.

_I’m pretty sure._

Minhyuk raked the hair off of Hoseok’s forehead to press a kiss to it. _Yeah,_ he said softly. _You’re right._ He dipped down to kiss Hoseok’s neck, to drag his teeth gently across the skin and make Hoseok shiver. He trailed a hand down Hoseok’s body, started to play with the fastenings of his pants.

_We’re outside,_ Hoseok said, but he was lifting his hips.

_I’ll stop then,_ Minhyuk said, nipping at the juncture between his jaw and ear.

_You shouldn’t stop something you’ve started._

Minhyuk smirked, then pushed Hoseok’s shirt up to his armpits before getting back to work on his pants. _Then you shouldn’t complain._

One of Hoseok’s hands cupped the back of Minhyuk's head, extra heat against his skin. Hoseok’s sounds of pleasure spread through the field like music.

_I can confirm,_ Minhyuk said a few minutes later, swiping his wrist across his lips. _A prince’s cum doesn’t taste any better than anyone else’s._

Hoseok laughed, breathless. Minhyuk patted his thigh and said, _But you make better sounds, so you can feel special about that._

Hoseok was still panting, but he managed to say, _You’re crass._

_It’s why you like me._ Minhyuk crawled over him, bracketed Hoseok’s head between his hands, smiled down at him. _It’s why you wouldn’t leave me alone when we first met._

Hoseok’s eyes were like pools of warmth, glazed and tired and fathomlessly deep. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was a mess against the flattened reeds.

_I didn’t bother you because you were crass,_ he said. _I bothered you because you were interesting._

_Either way, thanks for being an insufferable pain in the ass when we first met_.

Hoseok huffed out another laugh, smiled tiredly. _Was I that bad?_

_You were_. Minhyuk brushed a lock of hair off of Hoseok’s forehead, felt a shiver of affection in his chest at the way his touch made Hoseok’s eyelids flutter. _But you were cute, so it’s okay._

Hoseok laughed loudly and pushed him away, then wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back. The reeds crackled dryly together, and Hoseok’s chest bounced with laughter.

_What about you?_ he asked, hand pressing between Minhyuk’s legs.

Minhyuk rolled his hips into the touch, grinned at Hoseok. _I’ll let you do the honors._

He sighed when Hoseok’s mouth fastened to his neck, hummed when Hoseok pushed his hand into his pants. He came quickly, and then dozed pressed against Hoseok’s side, the fingers of Hoseok’s clean hand carding slowly through his hair, the sunlight warm on his skin. It was just another day that felt like paradise.

The next time they met, it was at Hoseok’s cabin, and Hoseok had a painter with him. The young man was someone Hoseok trusted, someone who wouldn’t say a word, but who would paint for the generous sum Hoseok had already given him. So, embarrassed and self-conscious because he’d never done this before, Minhyuk sat in front of the window as the young man painted him.

He saw afterwards, after the painter had left, that it was just a portrait of his face. Not very large, but very beautiful.

_I don’t look that nice,_ he said to Hoseok, who pulled him into his arms.

_You look nicer._

Minhyuk rolled his eyes. _Anyway, you can’t take that back to the castle with you._

_I know,_ Hoseok said, holding him tighter, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulder. _But you have the ring, and now I have this._

* * *

Minhyuk wakes to the sound of footsteps, which is odd because the servants never enter his room unless he’s gone. He tries to pry his tired eyes open, but before he can, a hand pushes the hair off of his forehead, making him jump.

“Sorry,” somebody whispers. Minhyuk opens his eyes and sees Hoseok crouching before him.

Hoseok kisses his forehead, lips warm and soft and startling. His breath brushes over Minhyuk’s skin. “Sleep some more. You look exhausted. You have the room to yourself.”

Minhyuk makes a questioning sound, garbled by sleepiness. Hoseok’s hand runs down his cheek, and lips press between his eyebrows.

“Sleep.”

Two pairs of footsteps head away, down the narrow hallway, and there’s the slightest sound as the door opens and shuts. Minhyuk tries to blink away the sleep in his eyes, tries to shake off the veil of it making his body slow and heavy.

The blanket on top of him is puffy, probably filled with down. He’s deliciously warm, but then the smell of the pillow filters into his consciousness.

He sits up in Hoseok and Kihyun’s bed, and sees signs of them everywhere.

There’s a sleep shirt draped over the end of the bed, and a couple pairs of slippers right inside the hanging curtain. Stacks of books at Kihyun’s bedside, and scrolls stuffed into shelves here and there. Little decorations on flat surfaces – figurines made of wood or metal; a brooch of heavy gems that looks like it was carelessly placed on top of the dresser instead of being put away; and the strangest but possibly the most intimate detail, a dried of chain of flowers formed into a halo like a crown, set atop a pile of books. Everything is lit by the flickering lamps on the walls.

Minhyuk slips out of bed, feeling like an intruder. He makes for the curtain and then for the door, and leaves.

The grounds are familiar to him now. The grass beneath his feet, the smell of the flower gardens, the bark of a dog somewhere he can’t see. He spends a long day outside, dreading his return but eventually making it as the sun sets completely, leaving the sky dark and cold.

He invites the haze back in, so that he’s barely aware of Kihyun at all when he steps into the room, and dully aware of Hoseok greeting him softly, touching his cheek, asking him a question before guiding him into bed.

Hoseok settles against Minhyuk’s back, drapes an arm around him. Minhyuk lies stiff as a board, watching the light of a single oil lamp flicker on the wall, until eventually, inevitably, uncomfortably, he falls asleep.

* * *

Nights are always uncomfortable. When Hoseok gets used to Minhyuk not reciprocating, he stops holding him.

Minhyuk trains his body to wake up before they do so he can leave early, and always finds them curled toward each other. He returns later and later too, slipping into bed after they’re both asleep. They’re curled toward each other then, too, but with space between them, like they’re thinking of him, of what he’ll see when he returns.

Days and nights bleed into each other, everything the same, everything coated by a cloud of exhaustion.

Hoseok tries to talk to him sometimes – something about _How are you feeling?_ and _What’s happening with you?_ and _Why are you like this?_

Or maybe Minhyuk dreams those encounters. He’s hardly sure. Hardly sure he’s even awake anymore, or that he ever sleeps.

One night he returns to Hoseok facing his side of the bed instead, a hand curled on top of Minhyuk’s pillow. He doesn’t stir as Minhyuk picks it up and moves it aside, doesn’t move as Minhyuk slips beneath the blankets.

Hoseok is much closer than usual, but Minhyuk is tired, too tired to care or do anything about it. Instead, he lays his head down on the pillow and looks at Hoseok’s face.

Is he imagining it, or does Hoseok look less peaceful in sleep than Minhyuk remembers him? Is he thinner? Are there lines on his forehead that weren’t there before? Does he look sad around his mouth?

Minhyuk carefully sets a hand down on Hoseok’s cheek, sucks in a breath at the warmth of his skin – that human kind of warmth that can’t be replicated by anything else, not by blankets and not by lying out in the sun.

Hoseok doesn’t stir, so Minhyuk brushes some hair away from his eyes, touches his cheek again, brushes his fingertips along the high plain of his cheekbone. Carefully, and so afraid, he touches his thumb to Hoseok’s lips, remembers the feeling of them against his own. Hoseok sleeps on.

Minhyuk draws his hand away as though burned. His chest is too tight, his throat is too tight. He rolls over, squeezes his hand into a fist and cradles it against his chest, but the tingling after-feeling of Hoseok is still there. 

It’s the only night Hoseok faces his way. It never happens again.

Minhyuk wishes he’d just said it that night on the tower – that there’s nothing left to salvage between them. That they’re broken beyond repair. That being with Hoseok doesn’t make him happy anymore. Maybe he had hoped, when he agreed to move into Hoseok’s room, that there was still a chance that they could heal like they did that one bitter winter.

Now they just sleep in the same bed like strangers, with one other man whom Minhyuk barely knows.

But like everything else has so far, even this becomes habitual for him.

* * *

Until one morning, he wakes to find Kihyun sleeping beside him.

He can tell even before he’s opened his eyes that he’s slept much longer than usual. The bone-deep comfort gives it away, the feeling of practically sinking into the bed, all his muscles loose.

There’s the silence of solitude in the room. He’s grown used to the sensation of Hoseok’s body beside his, just the ability to feel that it’s there, several feet away. And he can’t feel it now, so at first he thinks he’s alone.

But then he opens his eyes and nearly jumps out of his skin.

Right in front of him is Kihyun’s sleeping face, one cheek squished into the pillow, hair over his eyes, lips parted. He’s so _close._

Minhyuk scrambles away. The blanket catches around him and tugs, which jostles Kihyun, who’s wrapped up in the other half of it.

Kihyun’s eyebrows pull together, and then he squints his eyes open. He blinks several times before focusing on Minhyuk, bleary-eyed. Confusion works across his face, the most expressive he’s ever been around Minhyuk. It settles into understanding, and he finally lets out a long breath, loud in the overlarge room.

“Calm down,” he says, pulling the blanket over his face. He wriggles around a bit so that he isn’t as tightly wrapped up in it. Does he roll around a lot in his sleep? Minhyuk has never noticed and can’t help wondering now, despite being ready to leap out of bed at any moment.

“I was enjoying sleeping in,” Kihyun grumbles. “And you could’ve gone ahead and done the same thing.”

For a long time, Minhyuk stares at the few locks of Kihyun’s hair peeking out of the blanket. _What’s happening?_ he wants to ask. _Why are you here? Why am I here? Where’s Hoseok?_

He finds his voice and asks, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Late enough that Hoseok’s already gone. Early enough that I’m not hungry yet and could fall back asleep if you stopped talking.”

Minhyuk’s confusion must be palpable, because Kihyun sighs again and throws the blanket off of his face.

“Relax,” he deadpans.

He’s disheveled and puffy-faced, but he exudes the same ease that he did on the grounds the first day Hoseok made them all play that game together. Now he just gives Minhyuk a long look, eyes the slightest bit narrowed.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” he finally says, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and turning over so that his back is to Minhyuk. “Just go back to sleep. Or not. Whatever. But your tension is bothering me.”

Minhyuk looks around the room, at his slippers by the bedside, his robe hung beside the entrance into the bathroom. He could leave right now, take one step through the heavy wooden door and figure out what time it is and start to reorient himself.

But instead he says, “Don’t you usually have things to do?”

Kihyun rolls back toward him. He no longer looks half-asleep, but he doesn’t look irritated, either. He just looks curious, and brushes some hair clumsily out of his eyes before tucking that hand beneath his cheek.

“I do. But today I don’t. Sometimes things happen that way.”

Minhyuk frowns, wondering if that was meant to be sarcastic. He bites his lip, casts around for something to say, unsure why he wants to carry on a conversation in the first place. The lamps flicker, sending orange light shifting over the stone walls.

“Don’t you get annoyed, not having any natural light in here? Not being able to tell the time?”

Kihyun quirks a lopsided smile, tucks his other hand beneath his cheek as well. He’s curled up slightly, a small form under the blanket. Short, Minhyuk thinks. That’s one thing he might have picked up on these last weeks – Kihyun is short.

“That’s probably the most annoying thing about this entire room,” Kihyun says.

“Why don’t you try to get Hoseok to move into another one?”

Kihyun shrugs the shoulder he isn’t lying on. “I don’t spend all that much time in here. I mostly just sleep. I’m a busy person.” He smiles that odd smile again. “Me and my choir are very important.”

Minhyuk thinks he’s teasing for sure now, and doesn’t know how to respond, so he changes the subject. “Why don’t you dress fancy? Hasn’t Hoseok tried to give you expensive clothes?”

“Have you seen the laces on those things?” Kihyun says. Minhyuk must react some way, because Kihyun chuckles and says, “They’re a pain in the ass. I’d rather not make dressing myself be a total chore.”

“Oh. Yeah. I feel the same way.” It occurs to Minhyuk that if he weren’t so horribly tense, he might find this whole situation hilarious.

“You know,” Kihyun says, wrapping his arms around his pillow and turning his face into it so that the rest of his words are muffled, “you look exhausted whenever I see you. You should let yourself sleep more.” There’s a pause, and then he mutters, almost inaudible, “You should take care of yourself more.”

“Believe me, I’m taking care of myself by spending as little time in here as I can.” There’s an unexpected bite to his words. Minhyuk is surprised with himself, and maybe a bit impressed.

Another stretch of silence, and then Kihyun says quieter still, so that Minhyuk has to strain to hear it: “That’s so sad.”

“Welcome to life. I guess you’ve also lived a pretty luxurious one? Maybe not as luxurious as Hoseok, but still, you’ve had it pretty easy, haven’t you?”

Kihyun chuckles. “No.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, Minhyuk climbs out of bed, slides his feet into his slippers, and leaves.

* * *

Kihyun’s right about one thing. Minhyuk is exhausted.

His head hurts when he gets up in the morning and sneaks out of the room, hurts through breakfast, which he eats late in a back corner of the dining chamber. Once the pain tempers out after a meal, his head just feels foggy and overstuffed all day long, as he tries to fall asleep in the shade somewhere. He rests in fits and bursts, never getting enough, and when he slips back into bed at night it’s always with the thought that he’s going to have to wake up in a few hours anyway.

It gets to the point where the darkened hallways swim before his eyes, and the ground seems to tilt and sway beneath his feet as he walks over it. He’s given up tonight, returning to the bedroom earlier than usual. He can barely keep his eyes open, can barely see straight. As little as he wants to spend extra time in Hoseok’s room, he’d still prefer it to collapsing somewhere on the castle grounds.

The two guards at the end of the hall watch him stumble by, their stares needling into his back. His arms tremble with the effort of opening the door, but he still manages to close it softly once he’s inside. He assumes Hoseok and Kihyun are asleep, because even if it’s early for Minhyuk, the rest of the castle has been dark for hours. He isn’t surprised by the thin light filtering through the curtain at the end of the hall, but then he hears them.

Quiet gasps and groans, the bed creaking. His heart stops. A wave of frigid coldness washes through him, leaving goosebumps behind. His ears rush for several seconds, and when he can hear again, it’s unmistakable.

A keening whine, heavy breathing. Unintelligible whispers. Every little noise touches down on his skin, feather soft and absolutely scalding. He wants to run but he’s rooted to the spot, to the _sound_ of them.

Kihyun says it first, the “I love you” deep and guttural before his voice breaks into a gasp. The bed creaks louder.

It’s almost devastating, but not quite completely. Not until many too-long seconds later – seconds that seem to stretch infinitely, so that each hairline fracture in Minhyuk’s heart has the time to crack deeper and wider until all that’s left is a pile of rubble in his chest. Hoseok’s reply is whispered and breathless: “I love you too.”

Minhyuk sinks to the floor, presses a hand over his mouth, and hardly breathes.

He’s still sitting there a short while later, when they pad to the bathroom together. They talk quietly between themselves, so that Minhyuk can’t hear what they’re saying but he can hear the warmth of it, the domesticity. Kihyun chuckles, a weightless sound.

The blankets rustle when they return to bed and get comfortable. And then silence, but not for long.

“Are you okay?” Kihyun asks softly.

“I don’t know… No. I don’t know how to get through to him. I’m scared of hurting him. I’m scared of making him uncomfortable. I’m scared of making him feel alone. I just –” Hoseok sighs, loud and blustery and heavy, but when he continues his voice wobbles. “I miss him. I don’t know what to _do_.”

There’s a shushing sound, more rustling, a sniffle. Hoseok carries on in a whimper.

“I miss him so much. I’ve hurt him so much and everything I do just hurts him more. I hate myself for it. I hate that all I can do is _hurt_ him.”

“That’s not all –”

“It is, and you know it. I hurt him by inviting him here. I hurt him by sleeping beside him, but I’d hurt him by not sleeping beside him. I’d hurt him by sending him back to his room and I hurt him by not doing that. I just –” A sob wracks loudly through the room and down the narrow hall, where Minhyuk listens to every word. “I don’t want to be the cause of his pain anymore. I just want to be able to help. I’ve always, _always_ let him down and I’m doing it again and it’s killing me. He deserves happiness more than anyone in the world and instead I’m just – just making him – suffer –”

He starts sobbing too hard to speak. Slowly the sobs grow quieter, turn to sniffles, punctuated by the loud trumpet of a nose being blown. Footsteps pad to the bathroom, then back to the bed, which creaks.

“Drink some water,” Kihyun says, and Hoseok must, because a minute later there’s the heavy clunk of a glass being set down on the nightstand.

The light doesn’t go out, but Minhyuk is sure they eventually fall asleep. He can’t even tell how long he’s been sitting. His backside is sore when he gets to his feet, and his knees are weak. He walks toward the curtain.

When he pushes the fabric aside, he sees them asleep in bed, curled towards each other. His throat closes up. He looks away. Breathes. Takes quiet steps to the far side of the bed, where Hoseok has left room for him.

He doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t know why he came back, especially after hearing _that._ He wishes he could just cry, but he doesn’t want to wake them and besides, the emotion is stuck somewhere in his throat, won’t rise any higher than that.

He sits tentatively on the edge of the bed. As soon as the mattress dips, Hoseok makes a sound and turns partway over, squinting an eye open.

“Ah, Minhyuk,” he says, voice sleepy and deep. He rolls the rest of the way over, reaches for Minhyuk’s hip. Minhyuk flinches away, on his feet before he realizes it.

Hoseok is still struggling to wake up, his expression questioning and hurt.

“I can’t,” Minhyuk says.

Kihyun has woken up, props himself on one elbow and rubs the sleep from his eyes. All Minhyuk can think about is his hands all over Hoseok, and Hoseok's all over him.

“I can’t do this,” Minhyuk says. He steps back. Hoseok reaches for him, but Minhyuk jumps away. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving.”

“Minhyuk, wait.” Hoseok starts to sling a leg out of bed, looking truly panicked now, but Minhyuk shakes his head.

“I’m moving back to my room.” He starts toward the curtain, hears Hoseok say something, sees Kihyun sit up straight out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t stop.

He pushes the curtain aside, rushes down the hallway, throws the door open, and escapes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's Kihyun time! I'm so excited about these next few chapters. Please comment if you enjoyed :)

There’s a knock on Minhyuk’s door the next morning. When he opens it, it’s Kihyun with a bundle of his things – everything he owns in his frayed, worn out satchel.

“Can I come in?” Kihyun asks.

He asks it so directly yet without any demand, like he’d be fine either way. All Minhyuk can do is step aside. Kihyun enters, brings the satchel to Minhyuk’s bed and sets it carefully down. There’s no need. Nothing is that breakable.

Kihyun turns to him, looks at him for a moment with that unreadable gaze of his. He doesn’t comment on Minhyuk’s appearance – rumpled clothes, the ones he got no sleep in, his hair a tangled mess. Nor does he comment on the subtle tremble in Minhyuk’s hands and his knees, from exhaustion and hunger and gut-deep sadness.

What Kihyun says to Minhyuk is, “I think you should know that Hoseok has never stopped loving you.”

It’s as direct as his stare, and he says it with the easy confidence of someone who believes completely in what they’re saying.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Minhyuk says. Or tries to say. His voice is a whispery sound.

Kihyun contemplates him for another moment. “No, someone needs to tell you this. If it comes from me, hopefully you’ll believe it.” He waits, maybe for Minhyuk to retort. When Minhyuk doesn’t, he continues. “Hoseok doesn’t want to hurt you. He loves you as much as he ever did. He feels guilty, but more than that he’s so happy that you’re okay and that you’re here.”

“I’m not okay.”

Kihyun’s eyes narrow slightly. Not angry. Not judging. Just contemplating more intensely. “You’re breaking his heart,” he eventually says.

“I don’t owe him anything,” Minhyuk snaps. Bitterness rises in him, thick as the smoke that suffocated his entire village. His hands tremble harder, his knees feel weaker, but his voice gains strength. “I don’t have to give him _anything_ just because of the way he feels. I don’t have to do _anything_ for him. I owe him _nothing_.”

Kihyun has the grace to look surprised. He bites his lip, seems to be reevaluating what he said. “Of course not. I misspoke. Of course you don’t have to do anything because Hoseok wants you to. But…” There’s a tiny furrow between his brows, like he’s searching hard for the right words. “I still think you should take his feelings into consideration. For your sake as well.”

“Please,” Minhyuk says through his teeth, “get out.”

“Okay,” Kihyun says, and he walks right past Minhyuk, opens the door, and leaves.

* * *

He returns the following evening with a plate of food. A buttery pastry, some fruits, a slice of meat and a goblet of water. Minhyuk slunk to the dining chamber late last night to pilfer a few leftover bites of dinner, but he’d hardly been able to force them down.

Kihyun sits beside him on the bed. Minhyuk doesn’t know why he even let him in again, but he did. And because he doesn’t know what to say, and Kihyun is saying nothing, he tries to eat some of the pastry. It turns gooey in his mouth, sticks in his throat. He works it down with some water.

“When I met Hoseok…” Kihyun begins, and Minhyuk closes his eyes. “We connected quickly. One of the first things I learned about him, really learned, was that he was in love with you. He told me all about you, told me how much he missed you, how afraid he was about what might have happened to you. The first time I kissed him, he told me that he didn’t know if he could reciprocate my feelings, because he couldn’t move on from you.”

_I don’t want to hear this,_ Minhyuk thinks. His eyes are still closed. His hands are clamped around the intricate handles of the platter on his lap. Kihyun continues.

“Even after we decided to pursue our feelings for each other, he never pretended to stop loving you. Your portrait has always been by the bedside. Even a month before you returned, he still spoke of you.”

“Please stop,” Minhyuk says, but his voice is too quiet, too weak.

“I was never upset, never for a moment, that he was still in love with you. Hoseok is a loving person. He has so much love to give. So him loving me –”

“Stop,” Minyuk says, louder, but Kihyun just speaks over him.

“Him loving me was never him taking some of the love he gave to you and giving it to me instead. All he did was love more. He’s never loved you less.”

“Please stop it,” Minhyuk says. He realizes he’s repeating it under his breath, but Kihyun just. Keeps. Going.

“He’s as in love with you as he’s ever been, and that will never change.”

“Get out!”

Minhyuk throws the tray to the floor, whips an arm out to point at the door. Kihyun flinches.

“I don’t care how he feels! That doesn’t matter anymore! It’s irrelevant! Get out! Get _out!”_

Kihyun stands calmly, walks just as calmly to the door, stepping over the tray and the scattered food in his path. He says nothing else as he leaves, just closes the door softly behind him.

Minhyuk’s hands shake. Tremors wrack his entire body. His eyes burn… and then they’re wet. Oh. Here they are. Finally.

He blinks and the tears stream down his cheeks. His vision blurs. He curls in on himself, as piece by piece he breaks from the inside out. He wraps his arms around his middle, tips sideways onto the bed, and sobs so hard his body feels like it’s going to fall apart.

He cries until he’s empty – of tears, of sensations, of anything but a tight, pounding feeling in his head. He stares through unfocused eyes at the white blur of his blankets tinted orange by the lamps on the wall. The fabric beneath his cheek is soaked through. He can’t breathe through his nose.

_Enough of that, Minhyuk._

Slowly, he pushes himself into a seated position. Then he stands. Then he walks to the bathroom, barely aware of the rug beneath his feet, and then the cold stone.

A stranger faces him in the mirror. Limp hair, sunken face, a depth to his eyes that leads to nowhere but sadness. He wraps his arms around himself again, hands holding his elbows. He looks weaker than a ghost.

_Time to pull yourself together, Minhyuk. Time to be strong for yourself once again._

He’s done it before. He should be able to do it one more time. He _should,_ but when he looks at his wretched reflection, all he can do is start crying again. He sinks to the floor, vision blurring, sobs wracking his body.

* * *

He wakes up the next morning on the bathroom floor, and rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. Light comes in through the window in the other room, but it isn’t very strong, so the bathroom is dim and gray. The stones beneath him are cold.

He feels empty, but for the first time in a long while, the emptiness isn’t a bad one. It’s as though he cried out a great weight last night, leaving him lighter than ever. He feels distant, but not disconnected. His thoughts are slow, but there are sensations. The stone beneath him, his shoulder blades pressing into them, the weight of his entire body against the floor. His heavy eyelids, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, the dehydration headache pulsing inside his skull.

For the first time in a long while, he marvels at the fact that his body can experience so much at once. There’s the emptiness at his core, a void left behind by all those tears, but it isn’t gaping and dark and sinister. It’s just there.

He feels like a new person, and all the empty space is space that he can fill up however he wants. A fresh start. A new him.

He stands slowly, ears ringing in the silence, brain filled with clouds. And then he heads down to breakfast, worrying, for the moment, about nothing at all.

* * *

Kihyun doesn’t return for a week.

For a week, Minhyuk spends his time on the grounds, in the quiet places where nobody bothers going, just letting the sun caress his skin with thin tendrils of warmth. Sunlight is the best way to find comfort when you can’t find it in human form. It’s no replacement, but it does work a little bit.

He eats regularly, though only after main hours, so that Hoseok will never be seated up front. The rest of his time he spends in his room. Lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, or sketching the scenes he sees out his window – the quiet lawn with trees in the distance, sometimes children playing, sometimes women in fancy gowns going for a stroll beneath their parasols.

Where these people come from, he doesn’t know, but they must be castle guests, staying for a short time before returning to their lives elsewhere. He wonders how they’d feel about him capturing their moments in his sketchpad, what they’d think about his technique, untrained strokes of graphite and washes of watercolor.

He doesn’t remember the sketchpad showing up in his room. That’s the odd part. His memories have become hard to catch, as though he’s trailing his fingers through water and trying to trap each individual drop. Reality is dreamlike. But there’s a sketchpad in his room, a big one, not the tiny thing still closed up in his satchel, so he uses it.

For a week, he catches glimpses of Kihyun without wanting to. Kihyun always seems to be out and about, traveling from one place in the castle to another, keeping busy with whatever gives him his importance. His choir, probably. And Hoseok.

For a week, the emptiness within Minhyuk doesn’t exactly diminish, but something starts to fill it. It’s hard to tell what at first. The emptiness is still very much there, but it develops a texture – he can almost feel it inside of himself. He’s aware of something spreading into the space, and just the feeling of having something inside of him makes him feel a little bit more real.

He sleeps a few hours by the fifth night, eats three meals on the sixth day, small as they are – a few bites of bread and fruit, a few spoonfuls of stew, some water, some fancy herbal cheese.

On the seventh morning, Kihyun knocks on his door. Minhyuk has already memorized the sound – a rapid _one-two_ , straight to the point just like he is.

“Take a walk with me,” Kihyun says, as soon as Minhyuk opens the door.

Minhyuk starts to shut it, but Kihyun stops him, surprisingly strong, a shoulder against the slab of wood. “Hoseok doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not taking you to him.”

Minhyuk hesitates a moment longer. He realizes in this moment that he hasn’t spoken for the past seven days. When he tries to, his voice cracks and creaks something ancient in his throat. Like he really is a ghost, learning how to speak for the second time.

“Why?”

It isn’t a clear question, but Kihyun seems to understand. “Because I want to take a walk with you.”

* * *

They walk around the grounds, quiet places where nobody bothers going. Kihyun lets Minhyuk lead, walking a half a step behind without complaint. Eventually, though, he comes up beside Minhyuk and asks, “What’s your favorite food?”

Minhyuk glances at him suspiciously.

“I’m just curious,” Kihyun says. “It gives us something to talk about.”

“I don’t know,” Minhyuk says. His voice is getting a little bit stronger. And now that he’s using it, he finds that he wants to more. He used to be so talkative, before his life turned to ruins. “What about you?”

“Chicken,” Kihyun answers immediately.

“Chicken?” Minhyuk’s laugh is like a rusty hinge, and wasn't exactly meant to sound kind, either. “You live in a palace, you’re sleeping with the prince. You could eat anything fancy, and you choose chicken?”

“Yes,” Kihyun says, not reacting to the mention of Hoseok. “I’ve always liked it. It’s really good. What about you?”

Minhyuk sighs at his persistence. The castle wall rises above them as they turn the corner and follow the path beneath a patch of trees. “I don’t know. Anything. I grew up without a lot of it. Food. Hoseok would treat me to special things.” He’s surprised that it doesn’t hurt to say Hoseok’s name, or even to think of the memories that come to mind.

“Any favorite special things?”

Minhyuk sighs again.

“Fowl. Any kind of fowl. Small ones. Quails and whatever. Hoseok had me try so many different kinds. And game, too. Any kind of meat.” The talk of food unsticks his tongue even further. “My favorite, though, was rabbit.”

“A sophisticated palate.”

Minhyuk shrugs. “Anything is sophisticated if you’re used to going to bed hungry.” That sobers Kihyun right up.

“You draw well.”

Minhyuk shrugs again. “When there was nothing to eat, I’d sleep, and when I couldn’t sleep because I was too hungry, I’d draw. It helped me forget, sometimes.”

They’re passing by an outer hallway now, with stone arches that show into an inner courtyard. A man and a woman sit beneath one of the arches, in deep but amiable discussion. Minhyuk can tell that he and Kihyun are getting to a busier part of the grounds, so he turns them back around.

Kihyun keeps pace easily, which surprises Minhyuk a little bit, since Kihyun is shorter even than Hoseok. As he thinks this now, he feels like he’s thought it before, though he can’t quite remember when. A sort of echo in his head, very distantly familiar. Another one of those memories that slip through his fingers like water – like maybe he’s touched this droplet before, but how can he tell when they all stream together into one pool of liquid?

He blinks hard, trying to clear his head, and focuses back on Kihyun beside him.

“Let me know if your legs get tired,” he says.

Kihyun gives him a funny look. “Why would they?”

“They’re short.”

He hadn’t meant to be funny, but Kihyun presses his lips into a thin line, then fails to hold back the smile and the snort. It’s the happiest Minhyuk has seen anyone in a while. It’s blinding to look at.

“Anyway,” Minhyuk says hastily. “What do you sing, up in your choir room?”

“You mean when I’m alone, or when I’m with the choir?”

“When you’re alone.”

“Anything. Songs I know. Songs I make up. I just like the sound of my own voice.”

Kihyun says it with a smirk, his sarcasm outright. It’s too much for Minhyuk, who’s struggling to keep up, suddenly emotionally and socially exhausted. Kihyun seems to pick up on this, because soon enough they’re back at Minhyuk’s door.

“Thank you,” Kihyun says as Minhyuk heads back inside. “I hope we can walk together again sometime.”

“Sure,” Minhyuk says, shutting the door before he even registers what he’s responding to.

* * *

The next day they walk again. Kihyun asks him his favorite color, favorite sound, favorite time of day, and a few others that Minhyuk doesn’t remember. For the first and third, he answers truthfully – his favorite color is the vibrant yellow at the center of some flowers, and his favorite time of day is dusk during the summer when the heat has burnt off and the air seems refreshing enough that you could sustain yourself forever just by breathing.

For the second, he lies and gives one of his favorite sounds – wind chimes – but doesn’t give his favorite.

“You like summertime,” Kihyun comments. “It seems like it, at least.”

“I do.”

Kihyun offers his own answers, because Minhyuk doesn’t ask. His favorite color is deep inky green – like the forest leaves after a heavy rainfall when they smell of dust and damp soil and whatever else has been stirred up into the air. Fittingly, his favorite sound is the gentler, steadier rainfall at the end of a storm – the drip of it onto stone pathways or into puddles that have formed in ditches. His favorite time of day is morning when nobody is awake yet – when it feels like the entire world has gone still, and like the sunlight slanting in through the windows is filled with whispers. He has a way with words, bringing entire scenes to life as he describes them to Minhyuk.

“It sounds like you like the quiet,” Minhyuk comments. They’re inside the castle now, approaching his door. He doesn’t remember either of them setting a course; somehow they’ve just made it back.

“I do,” Kihyun says. “But not all the time.”

When Minhyuk is inside his room and Kihyun outside, Kihyun says, “Dinner tonight is rabbit. You should come to the dining chamber before it’s all gone.” He offers a slight smile, then excuses himself.

Minhyuk goes to the dining chamber at his usual late time, expecting to find a scraps of meat laid out on platters. He steps inside and stops short just as Hoseok goes silent at the head table.

Hoseok had been speaking to a few advisors, his dinner plate still in front of him, but now he stares at Minhyuk like he’s forgotten everything else around him. Silence echoes all the way up to the ceiling.

Before Minhyuk can unstick his tongue from between his teeth or his feet from the floor, Hoseok clears his throat and says to his advisors, “I’ve eaten enough. Let’s continue this conversation in my meeting chamber.”

They rise after he does and follow him out the side door.

On the table nearest the main doors, right in front of Minhyuk, is a platter of roasted rabbit and vegetables, untouched. Left out for him. Hoseok had been making sure he’d come for it before it was cleared away.

The food is cold, but Minhyuk carries the plate back to his room. He sits on his bed and eats it, barely tasting it.

Hoseok had looked thinner, more tired, the corners of his lips weighed down in a frown. All of this Minhyuk had seen in a few seconds, from all the way across the chamber.

* * *

It goes on for a couple of weeks. Kihyun stops by and they walk for maybe half an hour, maybe a little bit more. Kihyun always leads the conversations, if they can even be called that. Most of the time Minhyuk barely follows along with what either of them are saying, but he notices that by the end of the second week, he’s retaining a lot more.

When Kihyun gets distracted or thinks hard about something, he purses his lips. When he’s especially relaxed, he’ll hum tunes under his breath, sometimes mutter a few half-formed lyrics, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. When he smiles, it’s like there’s a whole different person he’s letting out – someone he keeps carefully guarded, someone bright and joyful and whose laugh could probably make anyone who heard it hold their breath in wonderment.

When Kihyun isn’t trying to get Minhyuk to talk, he’s actually good at silences – good at easing right into the peace of them, of letting him and Minhyuk walking side by side be comfortable even when they don’t say anything to each other. He has to walk quicker to keep up with Minhyuk’s stride, so when they walk over the pathways the sounds of their footsteps are always a cacophony.

Kihyun complains about things, but subtly. Critiques the landscape job in the gardens, tuts at some toys a group of children left out on the lawn one day, says that the gravy tasted a little bitter the night before.

“Why don’t you go into the kitchen and make it yourself then?” Minhyuk asks. Kihyun looks a little surprised, and Minhyuk can’t help chuckling. “Don’t you realize how much you whine about things?”

“I don’t whine. I’m just commenting.”

“You sure have a lot of negative comments.”

“I’m entitled to my own opinion.”

“Yeah, well, I never asked to hear it.”

“You never ask anything.”

Minhyuk raises his eyebrows. Kihyun does the same, but with the beginnings of a grin.

“Whatever,” Minhyuk says. For a moment, he marvels at the odd sort of ease that has sprung up between them in moments like this. Kihyun isn’t his friend, but Kihyun is someone he walks with, which makes him more than most people.

“Oh,” Kihyun says as they arrive back at Minhyuk’s room. “There’s a crack in your door.”

He says it as though he’s just seen it for the first time, but there’s no way that’s the case. The wood has split on the outside, running through several of the planks. It’s shallow but long, and Minhyuk probably would never have noticed on its own because he isn't the one that waits outside his bedroom door every day.

“Does it bother you?” he asks. “Oh, wait. It isn’t perfect, so it probably does.”

Kihyun rolls his eyes. “I could get someone to fix it, if you’d like.”

“It doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t go all the way through the door. Besides, then I’d have to hear you complaining about their handiwork every day.”

“I could fix it myself.”

“Really? And what would you use?”

“Resin,” Kihyun says. Annoyingly, his instinct is correct. And he knows this, because one side of his mouth goes up in a smirk. “I’ve lived in the real world.”

“Well, great,” Minhyuk says, opening his door. “Have fun fixing it.”

“Bye,” Kihyun says dryly as Minhyuk slips inside.

Once the door is shut, Minhyuk stands at the edge of his room marveling at the sensation somewhere around the pit of his stomach. The strange feeling taking place of the emptiness there, making him feel more and more real. He can almost place a finger on it. Almost, but not quite.

* * *

One day, a great big shaggy dog comes bounding up to them, and Kihyun transforms into that other person Minhyuk has only seen glimpses of so far.

The dog jumps up on Kihyun, a lolling pink tongue and glistening black nose visible within layers and layers of fur. It barks once, twice, loud and joyful, almost as tall as Kihyun on its hind legs.

Whatever last degree of composure and caution Kihyun was been wearing for Minhyuk’s sake completely evaporates. He’s smiling and laughing, pushing the dog off of himself and then cooing, scratching behind its ears, patting its sides as it jumps back up and tries to lick his nose.

The dog doesn’t seem to notice Minhyuk, but Minhyuk doesn’t mind because he thinks he’d be too stunned to react if it tried to jump on him too.

Kihyun’s smile is radiant. It carves two deep dimples high on his cheeks and pulls his eyes into crescents. His laughter is high and loud, bursting out of him in a quick staccato, every _Ha!_ separate but seamed together one after the other. Minhyuk has never heard anything like it. It’s Kihyun’s very own.

“Where’s your owner?” Kihyun asks, on his knees and rubbing his forehead against the dog’s. The dog gives one booming bark and then runs off as though it understood, around the corner of the castle and out of sight. A few more booming barks of glee find their way back to where Minhyuk and Kihyun stand, Kihyun brushing grass off of his knees.

Kihyun laughs to himself. Then he looks at Minhyuk, about to say something, but his eyes open wide.

“You’re smiling,” he says.

It’s only then that Minhyuk realizes he is. It’s a spell broken – the smile vanishes, not only from his face but his muscle memory. His cheeks feel hot, and so do his ears. So does that strange place inside of himself that’s been filling up with something he hasn’t yet found a name for.

“I don’t know why,” he says, off-kilter once again.

“You don’t need to know why,” Kihyun says, back to being composed and careful. “But you were. I’m glad.”

* * *

Minhyuk is exhausted when Kihyun knocks on his door the following day.

“I can’t go on a walk,” he says. There’s a flutter of disappointment on Kihyun’s face. Minhyuk can’t even pinpoint where and how it manifests, just that he spots it for a split second and then it’s gone. “You can come in, though.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Minhyuk steps aside, but Kihyun doesn’t enter. He looks truly stumped, and finally says, “Why?”

“Because I’m tired and lonely and I’ve gotten used to your company. You don’t have to, though.”

It’s easy to admit, because he came to the realization not too long ago and hasn’t had time to dwell on it and start feeling sorry for himself yet.

He woke up this morning understanding it – that space inside of himself that’s been filling up – and wishes he hadn’t. Wishes he could have woken up slowly, thinking of nothing, leisurely coming to his senses. Instead, he woke up and realized he was lonely.

When he’s with Kihyun, it fills, not with loneliness but whatever the opposite is. But Kihyun always leaves, because he and Minhyuk aren’t friends and that opposite-of-loneliness-feeling wasn’t for Minhyuk anyway. Kihyun has Hoseok, but Minhyuk just has his barely furnished bedroom.

So each time he walks with Kihyun, he’s filled a little bit more with the opposite feeling, stretching the space inside of himself out a little bit more. And then when Kihyun is gone and it empties out, it’s a little bit bigger than it was before.

So it's nothing new after all. A big empty space. And emptiness is nothingness, which is loneliness. He’s found himself back where he started, lonely in a huge castle with someone who wants his attention but has someone else to go to at the end of the day.

As much as he wishes he hadn’t, Minhyuk has grown attached to Kihyun in the way you grow attached to a cobweb hanging in the corner of your room. It’s harmless, not really something you want to keep around but then again, what’s the harm in it? You just get used to it.

And besides, he doesn’t think Kihyun wants to hurt him. Kihyun probably isn’t even aware of what he’s been doing to Minhyuk, hurting him with his kindness. Kihyun has never had a single ill intention toward him. They’re strangers, that’s all.

That’s why it’s safe to spend these small moments of each day with him. It alleviates Minhyuk’s boredom just enough. The price is being lonelier every time Kihyun leaves, but what else is Minhyuk to do?

“I tracked down the dog’s owner,” Kihyun says, sitting next to Minhyuk on the bed.

“Oh. Do they live here?”

“No,” Kihyun says, shaking his head. “It belongs to a princess. Her visit lasts a couple more days, and then she’ll leave.”

Minhyuk narrows his eyes, having caught onto another strange flicker of emotion on Kihyun’s face. A tightening of his mouth, a heavier drop in his words than the casual elegance he usually speaks with. But so subtle. Minhyuk wonders if anyone else would have noticed – wonders why he did.

“She invited us to play with him – the dog. His name is Rufus. I mentioned I’d been with a friend when he ran up to me yesterday. She takes him out to the big field around noon. He loves people. It seems like…” Here Kihyun offers up a shrug, strangely self-conscious, like he’s suddenly second-guessing something he was sure about a moment ago. “It seems like maybe you like animals.”

“Do you love Hoseok?”

Kihyun opens his mouth, but he’s too stunned to reply. It takes him a surprisingly long time to gather himself – the more Minhyuk gets to know him, the less collected Kihyun really seems.

But Kihyun looks straight into Minhyuk’s eyes when he says, “Yes, I do.”

It only hurts a little bit.

“Okay,” Minhyuk says. “Then please take good care of him.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m leaving him to you. He’s yours. You’re his. Please take good care of him, and make him happy.”

“But what about you?”

“Nothing about me. Hoseok and I are over. You don’t have to make me happy so that I’ll go back to him.”

Kihyun’s gaze falls to his lap. There are no smiles today.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this took a while to get up because A) it took me a while to decide I wanted/needed to split what was going to be one chapter into two, and B) I've just been really busy. But the story continues! Please comment if u enjoy!

The next day they walk. And the day after that. And the day after that.

Minhyuk can’t find it in himself to ask Kihyun to stop showing up at his door. He doesn’t even want Kihyun to stop, really. He enjoys the walks, enjoys the sunshine, enjoys when he and Kihyun bicker, all the while pretending that their acquaintanceship is normal.

His body gets stronger from the exercise and the fresh air and the good food he eats regularly now. But inside he’s weaker and weaker, made up more and more of loneliness and less and less of whatever vibrant energy glitters just out of reach in Kihyun’s eyes when he almost smiles at something Minhyuk says, almost laughs at whatever witty thing just came out of Minhyuk’s mouth.

Minhyuk has no plans to leave the castle, as much as he’d like to. He has nothing here, nothing to aim for, no promise of a tomorrow different than today. But he has nowhere else to go. No money, though Hoseok would surely give him some. But that would involve asking, which would be difficult for so many more reasons than one.

_You’re breaking his heart._

He’s never forgotten the way Kihyun said those words to him. As just a cold, undeniable fact. Would Minhyuk break Hoseok’s heart completely by asking him for help leaving?

Probably. Maybe. It’s been weeks. A month? Time is like water, hard to catch, harder to see – colorless and shapeless, only showing what’s on the other side of it.

Maybe he’s already broken Hoseok’s heart and wouldn’t have to worry.

* * *

“You’re always so punctual,” Minhyuk says in greeting, one morning of many, one more morning that Kihyun knocks just like every morning before it.

And like always, Kihyun wears neither a smile nor a frown, just the slightest lift of his eyebrows, and today a simple overcoat. Something about the way he carries himself gives off an air of infinite patience. Like he would really wait forever on the other side of Minhyuk’s door for him to answer.

“It’s a habit. Punctuality makes life easier.”

“Have you scheduled me into your daily routine, then?” Minhyuk asks.

That earns him the first hints of a smile.

“What if I have?”

“Then I guess I’d feel really important.”

Kihyun laughs under his breath. Tips his head to the side, as if to say _Come on, let’s get going._

It’s another blue-sky day when they get outside, but the grass is a darker green, still dewed up from the heavy rainfall the night before. The air is crisp, but Minhyuk has handled far colder weather. He walks barefoot in the grass, enjoying the sting of the cold, but mostly the wrinkled-nose look of bemusement Kihyun casts down at his wet feet.

_He grew up comfortable,_ Minhyuk thinks, reading into every detail on Kihyun’s face, knowing that soon they’ll be gone. The pucker of his lips. The narrowing of his eyes. The lines of contemplation on his forehead. _He grew up unhurried. He used to not having his authority challenged. He’s used to getting what he wants with ease._

And then Kihyun feels him staring, and looks from his feet to his face. A current passes between them, shocking in the same way that dipping one’s toe into a pool of icy water is. An entire-body shiver. The urge to recoil.

Minhyuk can tell Kihyun knows exactly what he was doing, can see it in the moment of panic that leaves Kihyun rigid and wide-eyed.

Minhyuk looks away, and Kihyun does too. The next time Minhyuk takes a glance, Kihyun has shuttered off, eyes darker than dark and quieter than any time before.

_Kihyun is a closed book, or tries very hard to be._

Minhyuk resolves to be more careful. 

When Kihyun shows up the following morning, he nearly thanks him, but that wouldn’t be careful at all. Still, it’s unsettling how relieved he is to see Kihyun again.

It’s unsettling how much he’s come to depend on Kihyun’s presence.

* * *

Even though time is like water, it always leaves traces that it has passed, the way floods leave stains on stone walls to show that they’ve been there. The dye in Minhyuk’s hair continues to fade. By the time it has lightened to a light honey color, the roots of his hair are growing in. The colors don’t look pretty where they meet, shocking white and gentle brown. It isn’t harmonious. Neither is the icy white of his eyebrows.

The petals in bloom are another sign of time passing. They coat the ground, dust the bushes, hang from tree branches. In all the bright colors of spring, as though they’re celebrating that summer is just around the corner.

On a day when the grass is dry to the point of pricking the soles of his feet, Minhyuk asks Kihyun about his choir, when it began, how it became his. He figures it’s about time for him to start asking the questions. Seasons are changing, pollen is in the air. New beginnings, he tries to tell himself, not believing it very much. Whatever the last chapter of his life was still hasn’t ended.

Kihyun clears his throat, like he’s rehearsed this tale. “When I arrived at the castle, I had no home.” He’s still walking on the path, trying not to eye Minhyuk’s bare feet. “I had no money. I needed a place to stay. I guess I’d gotten it into my head that if I could prove my talent, I’d be taken in at court.”

“As an entertainer?”

Kihyun shrugs. “Something along those lines. I didn’t know this castle had its own choir, but I’d heard it had living quarters for people talented enough to liven up the parties thrown here.” A hint of a smirk, self-satisfied and proud. It sharpens his cheekbones, adds a regalness to his features. “And I knew I could sing well.”

They pass between two rows of trees that grow up along both sides of the pathway. Their canopies arc over the path, casting a layer of shade. It’s nearly like walking through a tunnel. Flowers grow all along the branches, dainty white petals that detach at the slightest breeze. A single, tiny flower, all its petals still intact, flutters down from a branch and lands in Kihyun’s hair.

“So you just showed up one day and sang in the middle of a party and got offered a job?” Minhyuk asks.

Whatever Kihyun remembers makes him chuckle. He gives Minhyuk a bright-eyed look full of humor, spots of sunlight dappling his face where they’ve made it through the canopy. “More or less. And when it became apparent that I was the best singer in the entire castle, _the_ choir became _my_ choir.”

Minhyuk lets out a short breath. He can’t believe some people have it so easy.

“Where are the other singers from?”

“The nearby towns. Most of them are students, actually. The best of their academies. They come to me for vocal lessons, and once a month or so when the castle hosts an event, we sing for the guests.”

“I thought choirs were religious.”

Kihyun shrugs again, hums an unconcerned sound. He looks up at the canopy, raises a hand to brush his fingers through the flowers. He moves with grace, every line of his body as elegant as something painted. Like he’s been trained down to the exact curl of his fingers as he reaches them above his head, to how far back to tilt his head so that the curve of his throat is refined and not a show of vulnerability.

Minhyuk looks away before he’s caught.  _He’s used to having people look at him._

“Hoseok just likes music of all kinds,” Kihyun finally answers. “We do our part, and other musicians play their instruments. The guests enjoy it all.”

The flower is still in Kihyun’s hair when they arrive back at Minhyuk’s room. Minhyuk almost leaves it, but has a change of heart before he closes the door.

“There’s something…” He plucks it out, making Kihyun pull back slightly in surprise. Minhyuk holds the flower up between them. The little white petals are thinner than paper. “It was in your hair this whole time.”

“Oh, thank you,” Kihyun says. He opens his palm, and Minhyuk drops the flower into it. There’s a stagnant pause, before Kihyun says, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Face starting to feel warm, Minhyuk says, “Okay,” and shuts the door.

* * *

“I have something to show you,” Kihyun says, wasting no time on a _Good morning_ today.

He speeds through the halls like he’s walking on wind, leaving Minhyuk too windswept to ask any questions. One moment they're passing the dining chamber, the next they’re outside, then in one of the flower gardens, then Kihyun stops them beneath a bougainvillea archway. Minhyuk feels like he’s had time to blink exactly once since he opened his door.

“What –” he tries, but Kihyun shushes him. Not harsh, just excited. His body thrums with barely-contained energy, and he nudges Minhyuk in the side, pointing a little farther into the garden.

In a whisper, he says, “She’s shy. But if you’re quiet, she’s usually around all day.”

It takes a few minutes, but then the hummingbird comes flitting up to a second archway a few paces ahead, searching with its long beak for nectar in the petals. Its wings move so fast they’re just blurs in the air, but the hum is loud enough to vibrate in Minhyuk’s ears.

“Its chicks just hatched a few days ago. The eggs were tiny,” Kihyun says, stepping a little bit closer to Minhyuk’s side, craning a little bit closer to his ear, as though the hummingbird will fly away the second it hears him. “And they’re still tiny, the chicks. The mother feeds them constantly.”

Minhyuk is more aware of Kihyun’s body than the bird – aware of his warmth, his solidity, his smell (the same fancy powdered soap Minhyuk finds restocked in his bathroom each day, fresh and light as air). He’s aware now more than ever that Kihyun has a different understanding of boundaries than most people.

“Ah!” Kihyun says under his breath, a sound laced with so much brilliance. The last wisps of it puff against Minhyuk’s ear. He rises onto his toes as the hummingbird flits to a nearby tree.

Minhyuk dares a glance, and finds Kihyun’s face open and bright. It makes him seem younger, almost fools Minhyuk into thinking he’s an open book, always this vibrant and expressive.

“Look! She’s feeding them!”

Minhyuk looks away from the smile on Kihyun’s face to the mother hummingbird perching on the edge of a nest so small it looks no bigger than an acorn. Two tiny heads crane upward, mouths open to the sky. The mother sticks her beak down their throats to feed them.

Kihyun leaves Minhyuk’s side to take a cautious step forward, then another.

_Kihyun likes animals_.

Without warning, the hummingbird darts off the branch and straight at Minhyuk. Her wings beat a physical force against the air. Minhyuk can’t help but flinch.

But she just hovers in front of him, then darts up beside his head, then somewhere behind him, hovering a few moments each time. The vibrations rattle Minhyuk’s eardrums. The hummingbird flies back around to hover in front of him again.

“It’s curious,” Kihyun says, looking back over his shoulder, the rest of his body frozen mid-step in the other direction.

The bird flits away, taking her hum with her, leaving the chicks to nestle back down in their nest until she returns to feed them again. Only then does Kihyun relax.

“I’ve been here countless times,” he says, almost complaining but not quite. “She’s never paid any attention to me.”

Minhyuk lets out a little laugh of wonderment. He looks for the bird among the trees, but she’s long gone. “Animals just tend to like me.”

He looks back at Kihyun and finds Kihyun scrutinizing him. Their roles have switched this time – Kihyun watching, Minhyuk oblivious. The bolt he feels isn’t cold, but hot. Still a shock, a nervous flop in his chest. _What is he trying to find?_

And just like clouds parting before they ever turned to rain, Kihyun’s features even out and he says, “Your smile is beautiful, by the way. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn’t want to do it at the wrong time.”

“Oh.” Minhyuk has an even harder time finding words now, stunned twice over. Overhead, the sky is so blue it looks like it’s going to tint the rest of the world the same color. “Thank you. So is yours.”

Funnily enough, that makes Kihyun smile. Not the full-blown one he gave to the dog, but halfway there, still enough to stun Minhyuk speechless a third time over.

It hits him, once he’s back in his room and the door is closed and Kihyun is gone, and there’s a strange warm weight where his heart had flopped earlier. The opposite-of-loneliness-feeling that he gets from Kihyun is kindness.

_Kihyun is kind._

* * *

The knock on his door that night is a rapid _one-two_ that sounds very much like an _I’m here._

He knows exactly who it is, and opens the door with a question on his face that’s wiped clean off when he sees how Kihyun is dressed. A shirt of a thick, luxurious fabric, pea-sized buttons all the way up to his neck. A heavy coat over the top, adorned with larger buttons made out of what might just be pure gold.

“Hello,” Kihyun says.

“Why do you look like that?”

Kihyun holds out an arm, makes a face. “It’s ridiculous, I know. The fabric’s so heavy I feel like I’m walking in a suit of armor.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Kihyun leans against the doorframe, comfortable in a way that Minhyuk envies.

“Hoseok’s throwing a ball. I excused myself because, well, they’re noisy and I’d rather be somewhere quiet.”

“I was going to go to bed.”

“How about a walk instead?”

Minhyuk almost says it again – _I was_ going _to go to bed._ But something stops him. The thrilling prospect of a stroll through the night-pitched grounds? The luring appeal of the wealth Kihyun wears all over his body?

The fact that he wasn’t _actually_ about to go to bed?

(The fact that he’s begun to associate Kihyun with kindness, a sentiment he’s rarely had extended his way in recent memory?)

He lets out a long sigh that already sounds like defeat. “Fine. Why not.”

Kihyun’s smile isn’t so much triumphant as it is genuinely, radiantly pleased.

It’s a quiet trek through the castle, their shoes – Minhyuk has donned his – scuffing every now and then against the stone. Night presses in on all the windows. Torches warp their light this way and that. It’s an unhurried quiet, but as they near the main doors, Minhyuk lets out a sound of affront.

“You didn’t tell me it was raining!”

The torches inside the doorway flicker in the wind. Their flames illuminate the droplets falling in the darkness beyond, like flashes of silvery orange in the night. But it’s mostly the sound that gives the rain away. A telltale pattering and splattering, puddles already forming in the long path that cuts between the doors and the castle’s outer wall across the lawn.

“I didn’t know,” Kihyun says, sounding just as startled. “I’ve been inside all night. Besides, your room is the one with windows. How did _you_ not realize?”

Minhyuk mutters, “I was about to go to bed.”

Still, they continue to approach to open doorway, footsteps echoing off the stone. A guard stands to each side of the entrance, back straight and stare forward. Behind Minhyuk and Kihyun, the buzz of the gala drifts down the hallway from the dining chamber.

Beside each guard is a bucket filled with parasols. Kihyun takes one and grins at Minhyuk. “We can borrow these.”

Minhyuk eyes the unfortunate frills on the one Kihyun chose and says, “I’m going back to my room.”

Instead, he ends up walking down the pathway, breathing in the crisp air, the damp of the grass, listening to the heavy thumping of rain on the frilly parasol they’re both squeezed beneath. The tunic he’s wearing has long sleeves, but they do nothing to trap heat.

Kihyun isn’t exactly warm where his arm presses against Minhyuk’s, but he still gives the sensation of warmth, the idea that warmth should be there. His strides are quick and sure, straight into the darkness. Soon it’s like they’re walking on nothing, like they’ve fallen into a starless sky. The entranceway is a glow behind them, and torches flicker far ahead, and the rain saturates the air, and Minhyuk can’t even see his own feet. It’s mostly Kihyun’s weight at his side that guides him.

“Are you… Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Outside the castle grounds? Won’t the guards know you should be at the gala?”

“I can pretty much do what I want,” Kihyun says, an invisible smirk in the night. “So can you. The guards know you have privileges.”

Inside the archway in the security wall, two more guards stand out of the rain. They barely even glance as Kihyun and Minhyuk pass through.

The air is just as crisp on the other side, the rain falling just as steadily, like fingers drumming on the parasol. Oil torches sheltered in glass casings hang along the outer wall, safe from the rain.

Kihyun pushes his shoulder into Minhyuk’s to get him to turn, and then walks them a short distance along the perimeter of the wall. And then, with just as little a warning, he stops. Minhyuk takes a step outside the umbrella’s shelter, is pelted with water, and jumps back in.

“Here we are,” Kihyun says, ignoring Minhyuk’s glare. “Peace and quiet.”

It isn’t quiet at all, but Minhyuk understands what he means. It’s the look of everything that’s quiet, and would probably look even quieter without the rain streaking down.

A mile or so away, at the bottom of the slope Minhyuk remembers walking up the night he arrived, a town glows in the dark. A collection of lights smudged by the rain, a beacon to usher in weary travelers.

He becomes aware of several things. The weight of Kihyun huddled beside him under the parasol. The white wisps of breath escaping Kihyun’s mouth as he breathes. The focus on Kihyun’s face as he looks out toward the little town – he’s backlit, turned just enough that the torchlight catches one cheek and spreads partway to the other, showing one narrowed eye and one furrowed brow, the purse of one side of his mouth. Minhyuk is also aware of the silence, the way the hush of rainfall makes the lack of conversation louder.

“Do you come here often?” he asks. For how softly he says it, his voice seems to rise straight through the rain.

Kihyun nods, a half-aware motion, his focus not shifting from the distance. “Yeah. I like to just –” He cuts himself off, the pull of concentration on his face lost just like that. He looks up at the parasol. For a second nothing hits it, and then the rain is back, and then it’s gone.

It moves on as quickly as it came, petering out in less than a minute and leaving behind its lingering scent and the _drip – drip – drip_ of water off the trees and stone. Kihyun lowers the parasol, shuts it, shakes it off. Minhyuk _tsk_ s, droplets splattering over his pants.

“Sorry,” Kihyun says, still sounding distracted.

Minhyuk clicks his tongue. “I thought it was going to be a storm,” he says, tipping his head back. The clouds are clearing fast, letting through pinpricks of starlight. He blows air through his lips, a thick cloud of white. “I used to be so good at telling when it was going to be a storm and when it wasn’t.”

“I think it was just a rain burst. There might be more.”

Minhyuk takes a deep breath, lets the night sit crisp and cutting in his lungs, and then exhales it slowly through his mouth. More smoke, rising fast and dissipating into nothing. He and Kihyun aren’t out here to discuss the weather. _What_ they’re out here for, he still hasn’t gathered. Kihyun isn’t being very forthcoming. All Minhyuk has gained so far are wet ankles and goosebumps.

Out of nowhere, out of the smoke, out of the smell of the rain and the prick of cold along his arms and legs, Minhyuk finds himself growing frustrated.

“So why aren’t you inside, celebrating whatever’s being celebrated with Hoseok? With your lover?”

He’d wondered, a split second before he said it, what the word would taste like. _Lover._

He’d wondered if he’d be able to say it at all.

_Lover._

He had, and now he regrets it, because it tasted like dirt and felt like mud on his tongue. _Lover, lover, lover._

“I told you,” Kihyun says, with that dreamy, faraway quality ever-persistent in his voice. “It was noisy, and I wanted to get away. I’ve been to many galas, but I never enjoy them for long. Too much happening. Too many people. Too much laughter and…” He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, bites down. Gnaws on it for a moment, contemplative, then lets it go. “Too many people pretending for the sake of others.”

“So why come get me?”

“You’re good company.”

Minhyuk laughs loudly, the sound slicing straight down the hillside.

Kihyun looks mildly perplexed. “Well, _I_ think you are.”

Minhyuk takes a step back toward the wall, touching his fingers to the damp stone. It’s cold and rough and grounding.

This is all so strange – him and Kihyun and the dance they play at, the pretending they do for the sake of the other. Sometimes blunt and sometimes clever and sometimes unguardedly genuine – they cycle between masks as though they’re on stage, performing a two-man play that they never practiced.

For all the little bits of Kihyun Minhyuk has pried from careful observation, he doesn’t _know_ Kihyun at all. It's so endlessly frustrating.

“Why did you come get me?” he tries again. He isn’t playing at anything this time. He just wants to understand. “Even if I didn’t want to come out here with you, you wouldn’t have given up. You would have just kept asking me until I agreed. Do you like tugging me around wherever you go? It is amusing, or what?

Kihyun holds his gaze, the moonlight clashing with the flicker of torchlight off of his face, making his eyes glassy and impossible to see clearly. And then he shifts his weight to one side, and it’s just enough to cast off the torchlight, so that his eyes are their normal darkness again – only darker in the night.

Haltingly, he says, “I just thought… maybe… you would like to not be alone.”

The words take a second to settle, and then they _hit._ Minhyuk’s throat tightens. He looks away.

“I’m not lonely,” he lies.

“Have you thought about doing anything during the day?” Kihyun asks. “I’m sure there are things you could do around the castle to keep yourself occupied. I think… that would be good for you.”

Minhyuk’s first instinct is to tell him to mind his own business, to keep his pity to himself. But he doesn’t have the energy for an argument. He digs the toe of his boot into the grit, working up a stone sunk into the wet ground.

“The stables need another hand,” Kihyun says, with all the tentativeness of someone on tiptoe. “The stable boy left yesterday, something to do with family matters. The stable master’s looking for help.”

“Just like that, huh? A job for me. How easy.”

“I think you deserve to have some ease in your life.”

Minhyuk stops digging his toe in the grit, looks at Kihyun just as Kihyun looks away.

_Kihyun knows more about me than I know about him._

“Can I ask a favor of you?”

Kihyun perks up, entire body straightening. “Of course,” he says, and Minhyuk feels sorry for him because he sounds genuinely eager. He really is kind, in his own frustrating, not always welcome way. And because of that, what Minhyuk is going to say will probably hurt him.

“After tonight, could you not come to see me for a while?”

The smile of anticipation on Kihyun’s face freezes, then falls straight away.

“I appreciate your company,” Minhyuk says, and it’s true. He runs a hand through his hair, squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly tired and wishing he were back in his room, his bed. “I just need some time to think. A couple of weeks. Can you give me that?”

He opens his eyes to see Kihyun’s reaction – a silent nod. It might be a trick of the night, but for a moment Kihyun looks anxious, looks younger. Chastised.

“Of course I can. I can stop knocking on your door for good, if you want.”

“No, I don’t want that.” Minhyuk curls his fingers against the wall, fingertips dragging over the rough stone. “I don’t think I do. I just…” He looks out over the lights of the town, so much brighter now that the rain is gone. They seem to pulse, brighter one second, dimmer the next. “I just need to figure out what I want, now that I can think at all. I need to figure out what I’m doing here, and I need to figure it out on my own.”

“That’s…” Kihyun trails off, looking down the hill. “Fair,” he finishes quietly.

“Thank you.”

A breeze cuts at them. It carries the smoky tinge of the fireplaces roaring in the village. Minhyuk rubs at his arms through the sleeves of his tunic.

There’s a rustle. Kihyun clears his throat. Minhyuk looks over to find him holding his coat out.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Minhyuk says – alarmed, flustered, something between the two. “Besides, then you’ll be cold.”

Kihyun’s arm doesn’t drop. Minhyuk takes the coat with a sigh, and at Kihyun’s nod slips it on. It’s every bit as heavy as it looks, the fabric thick and stiff and not even comfortable. The weight of luxury. The warmth of luxury, too. Kihyun’s residual body heat seeps into Minhyuk like a blanket, except…

“Was this tailored specifically to fit you?”

“It was,” Kihyun says. “Why?”

Minhyuk shows Kihyun is bare wrists. “The arms are too short.”

For several seconds, Kihyun stares at Minhyuk’s bony wrists, and Minhyuk stares at Kihyun staring. And then Kihyun’s lips twitch. And then laughter bursts out of them both, free and easy and unexpected, like it shouldn't be there in the first place.

Minhyuk enjoys the moment for its authenticity, for the rapid staccato of Kihyun’s laugh, for the unclenching in his chest. A little bit longer of this, and then he’ll start thinking of the necessary time they’ll spend apart.

* * *

The stable master is a crotchety man who might be very old or might just be very sun-leathered and grimacing. Either way, he’s expecting Minhyuk the following morning, and with no preamble at all shows Minhyuk how to muck the stables, brush and feed the horses, maintain the supplies… The list goes on and on, and once he’s done, Minhyuk sees very little of him from then on.

No matter, because he falls into the role easily. He’s good with animals, and they tend to like him, which always helps. These horses don’t seem to be war horses (he’s not sure Hoseok’s kingdom would even need those), because they’re exceptionally calm and easy to handle. He mostly enjoys spending time with the mare and her foal, both of them so gentle-natured, though the foal is still curious as can be. Its favorite activity, apart from prancing around in the field, is nibbling at the ends of Minhyuk’s sleeves.

Minhyuk spends his first few days in this newfound company without thinking much, even though he told Kihyun he needed this time to think. But it’s hard to when the sun is warm and the grass is green and the silence in the pasture is so sleepy and consistent. It’s also hard, because he feels like he and Kihyun should be walking through a garden or beneath some tree canopies or across the lawn.

But Kihyun hadn’t knocked, just as promised, so Minhyuk has taken on this new routine instead. Feeding and brushing and standing in the sunshine, the grass poking between his toes, the smell of horses everywhere. After three days, though, of feeding and mucking and brushing and feeling his muscles thrive under the hard work, he begins to feel guilty for letting his head stay so empty.

So it’s in the pasture, sometimes with a light tug at the end of one of his sleeves as the foal tries to nibble through it, that Minhyuk thinks. He thinks, and thinks, and thinks, and when all those thoughts get too heavy he lets out a breath that the foal always perks its ears up at, and stops thinking for a time. He returns to the castle for lunch, usually takes a plate back outside, where he eats with his back against a tree trunk while resolving to think some more.

The castle isn’t a place he can call home. It isn’t a place he’s happy, either. But it’s a place that he knows he can count on being there, which is the most assurance he’s had of anything in the past year and a half. Longer now. He’s so used to thinking ‘a year and a half’ that he’s hardly bothered to count the time that has passed since then.

Since arriving at the castle, his life hasn’t regained even the slightest sense of normalcy. Not that it had ever been normal, but he thought, he was _sure_ , that once he found Hoseok again, he’d at least be okay. And instead he’s what? Some sort of mess. A messy person. A mess of a person.

He gnaws into a crust of bread, all that’s left of his lunch. It’s deliciously yeasty and as thick as leather. Just as Kihyun’s luxurious coat weighed too much to be comfortable to wear, this crust of bread baked by the finest baker around leaves Minhyuk feeling like a dog gnawing on a bone. At least it’s something to release his frustrations on.

He has problems with Kihyun, but they aren’t huge, aren’t insurmountable. He and Kihyun can get along. They _could_ be friends, in some other reality. But he doesn’t think they can truly be friends when he’s being asked to share the love of his life with him.

Because yes, Hoseok is still that. Minhyuk recognizes it in a factual sense. He has only had one love, and it was Hoseok, so Hoseok still holds that title, and Minhyuk still holds on to the past.

He can demand Hoseok for himself, but with everything that exists between Hoseok and Kihyun, everything he’s seen with his own eyes, he doesn’t have the conviction that Hoseok would be happy with him anymore. With _just_ him.

He could leave the castle and once again be untethered, without the promise of a bed to sleep in or food to eat. The thing is, leaving would feel too much like giving up.

He spent _one and a half years_ looking for Hoseok. Diligently, calmly, patiently. Stubbornly, because his entire life has centered on being stubborn. Desperately, because it was so hard and took so long and he was so alone. He searched, battling loneliness and heartache and sometimes even people – worst of all, people. All the while just wanting to be with Hoseok. Just wanting Hoseok’s love to heal all the hurt, patch up all the holes.

His mother used to tell him, _‘Love can’t fix everything. It can help ease many things, but it can fix very little on its own.’_ Still, Minhyuk wanted to believe that it could.

When he had to crouch beneath an overturned wagon to for shelter from a storm, when he had to beg for water during the heat, when he had to bite down on his lips to stifle the whimpers as he dabbed a wet cloth to the bloody place on the back of his head, he believed that all of the awfulness would end at Hoseok. One day, the most he’d have to worry about was being in love, and that wouldn’t be a worry at all.

And now Hoseok is offering him the very thing he wanted, but not in the way he wanted it. He never wanted to share. But life is unfair. Minhyuk’s is, at least.

A horse comes up, not the foal but an old, lazy thing. Minhyuk holds the last bite of bread out on his flat palm, and the horse snuffs it up before gallumping slowly away.

If only Minhyuk could just eat bread and sleep in the sun and be content, instead of grappling with the fact that Hoseok claims to want his love, while being perfectly happy with someone else’s. It should be greedy. It _should_ be, but it’s Hoseok, who really isn’t that greedy of a person, so the most it is is confusing.

The sun beats down on the back of Minhyuk’s neck and the horses graze around him, and he stares at his toes pushing into a patch of dirt and tries to wrap his head around it.

Tries to stop thinking of him and Hoseok and the sun-slow days when it was just the two of them pretending it would always be just that: the two of them.

* * *

They lay together on the ledge beneath the window, squished up close in the too small space, skin on skin, clammy from the heat.

One of Minhyuk’s favorite things was the feeling of Hoseok’s chest rising and falling beneath his cheek. He wasn’t sure why it was this more than anything else that made him realize how precious Hoseok was – to him, and in general. Maybe it was just that, with neither of them saying anything, with the sunlight pulling a veil of drowsiness down over them, Minhyuk could appreciate the simple fact that Hoseok was alive and _here_. Naked and warm and half-asleep, one arm curled loosely around him.

In moments like this they didn’t feel like a prince and a poor young man. They were just two men who knew each other so intimately that everything else ceased to matter except the sound of each other’s breathing, the shared body heat soaking through them, the profound understanding that love could be as hushed and comfortable as it could be feverish and overwhelming.

Hoseok stirred, hand coming up to cover one of Minhyuk’s, flattening both of them over his heartbeat. This brought Minhyuk out of the half-dream he had been sinking into – something about planting crops in the reeds and having them grow into a garden. The backs of his eyelids were tinted a deep red.

_Someday_ , Hoseok started, voice cracking into a sleepy whisper. He brushed his thumb up and down Minhyuk’s. _I want to wake up in bed with you. In my bed. In our bed._

Heat lanced through Minhyuk, whirled in his stomach, shot up through his heart, left him tingling in his toes. He kissed Hoseok’s chest, let his lips linger, drinking in the heat, the faint lingering scent of perspiration.

_That’ll only happen in your dreams,_ he said.

Hoseok lifted Minhyuk’s hand to his lips, which he brushed along Minhyuk’s knuckles. _It’ll happen. Even if I have to give up my title, my wealth, anything. I’d leave behind anything to be with you._

Minhyuk opened his eyes. He had a clear view out the window, straight into the line of the trees. _Don’t be stupid,_ he said, trying so hard to keep the longing out of his voice. _You couldn’t live on nothing. I know, because I do, and you just wouldn’t know how to handle it. You have your money. Don’t take it for granted._

_Money isn’t happiness. I’d trade it all for love any day._

Minhyuk propped himself up on one elbow. He’d intended to look stern, but he saw the love on Hoseok’s face and all he could do was shut his eyes for a moment, sigh out the ache in his chest.

_Money is everything, Hoseok,_ he said, opening his eyes again. He cupped Hoseok’s cheek in his palm, not knowing how to say how naïve he found Hoseok. How naïve and soft-hearted and pure. So lovely. The loveliest person Minhyuk had ever known. The most naïve.

With a pout and with hair in his face and with a world of innocence and ease glimmering in his eyes, Hoseok said, _I love you more than I love some gold coins or some colorful rocks on my fingers or some fancy goblets to drink out of._

Minhyuk leaned down, kissed him. _But those things make the world go ‘round,_ he murmured against Hoseok’s mouth.

Hoseok threaded a hand into his hair, tipped his chin up to kiss him more firmly. A quick statement, before he settled his head back down onto the wadded up blanket he used as a pillow. Another little pout played at his mouth, lower lip jutting out.

It was undeniable that he’d become more attractive since they’d first met – body filling out, face hardening up into strong slopes and graceful plains. But it was also undeniable that he’d become more adorable, his petulance always softened by his pretty eyes and sweet mouth, leaving Minhyuk’s stomach swirling.

_Then I’ll be with you when the world stops,_ Hoseok said, _Unless_ you’d _trade_ me _for money?_

Minhyuk aimed the sigh he let out upwards, so that it fluttered the hair in front of his eyes. _Neither are mine to trade, Hoseok._

He knew he was pushing it, saying things that Hoseok didn’t like to hear, but they were true and one of them had to remind the other now and then. And that someone wouldn’t be Hoseok. There was only so much fantasy Minhyuk could let them live in.

(And he realizes now, as he’s sitting on the grass in the pasture, how he might have been unfair to Hoseok. How sometimes he made it seem like he didn’t believe in them, and how sometimes he outright didn’t. He was allowed to feel however he felt, but being truthful wasn’t always being kind. He wonders now if Hoseok thought that he just wouldn’t show up for him one day, that he would decide none of it was worth it.

Maybe Minhyuk wasn’t always being wise back then. Maybe sometimes he was just being cruel.)

The gleam in Hoseok’s eyes turned fierce, a flame catching. If Minhyuk had lived his entire life being stubborn, then Hoseok had somehow done the same, though what he had to be stubborn about, Minhyuk could hardly imagine.

And yet, when Hoseok said, _I’m yours,_ his voice was soft, genuine. _Every piece of me. It’s yours, entirely._

Minhyuk couldn’t wrap his head around how much Hoseok loved him. All he could do was see it plain as day in everything Hoseok said and did. It was more than love. It was adoration. It was… everything, every piece of him, just like Hoseok said.

Minhyuk bit his lip, wanting to push against it because how could Hoseok love him so much? He was so poor. His clothing was so worn. His hair so unkempt. His speech coarse and blunt and filled with ugly truths. His body too thin, hands too rough, shins bruised and elbows scraped.

But Hoseok treated him like he was worth more than every single jewel in every single ring of every single wealthy person Minhyuk had ever seen, and then some. When Minhyuk looked down at Hoseok, Hoseok looked right back up like he wanted to give him the entire world.

Something his mother had taught him when he was little was to accept good things when they came to him. And Hoseok was the best good thing he’d ever had. Warm and real with a heart open wide and holding only gentle things.

So he lay back down, let Hoseok kiss the top of his head and lace their fingers together and whisper _I love you_ s until Minhyuk’s eyelids grew heavy and the knot in his chest started to loosen.

He woke with a start later, body cool but not cold, the backs of his eyelids dark. He opened his eyes, nose smushed against Hoseok’s shoulder, and saw the stars twinkling in the sky through the window.

He didn’t move right away. The hush in the cabin was different than any of the others. A midnight hush, one filled with the disappearing wisps of whatever dreamland Minhyuk had just been in. The candle on the table had burned low, barely lighting the room. All the hottest remnants of the day had dissipated through the window, leaving air the temperature of nighttime.

Hoseok was asleep beside him, against him, partly underneath him. How they had managed to stay on the ledge, Minhyuk’s couldn’t imagine. He was on the very edge himself, with Hoseok right up against the window, Minhyuk’s top leg slung over both of Hoseok’s underneath the blanket one of them – probably Hoseok – had pulled messily up to their hips.

It was much too late. Minhyuk should have been home, and Hoseok should have been as well. Minhyuk slung his thigh a bit farther over Hoseok’s legs, claiming more heat.

Hoseok’s profile was backlit by the moonlight. Lips parted, nose sloping above them, eyebrows furrowed in a dream. Minhyuk reached for the blanket, pulled it up over his shoulders, then tucked it around Hoseok’s as well. Then he lay his arm back across Hoseok’s stomach, nuzzled his face against Hoseok’s cheek, and decided to go back to sleep.

He woke up a second time to a hand going slowly through his hair.

_Mm,_ he groaned. He was cramped from the position, and already too hot. How frustrating summer could be, relentlessly hot all day long and tauntingly cool at night. The blanket had fallen away, or else Hoseok had lifted it off of them. Minhyuk stretched his legs out, toes pushing against Hoseok’s. Lips found his forehead, kissed once, twice, thrice. He didn’t want to wake up yet, pretended a little longer.

_Morning,_ Hoseok said, sounding like he’d barely woken up himself. His fingernails trailed with a barely-there pressure over the back of Minhyuk’s neck.

Minhyuk shivered.

_I know you’re awake._

Minhyuk could hear Hoseok's smile. _You shouldn’t have let me spend the night._

_I couldn’t help it. I fell asleep._

Minhyuk cracked one eye open, too drowsy for the second yet. He was right – Hoseok was smiling.

_You shouldn’t have fallen asleep._

Hoseok’s grin turned cheeky. _Even princes make mistakes._

Minhyuk kissed him, meaning for it to be quick but Hoseok kept him there, cradling the back of his neck. Minhyuk sighed, and that was all that was needed for the kiss to turn deeper, for Hoseok to swipe his tongue along his lower lip and for Minhyuk to draw him in.

Hoseok rolled on top of him, knees straddling his hips, hands on his shoulders. He kissed the corner of Minhyuk’s mouth, his jaw, his neck, then sat up just as Minhyuk craned his head back for more. The grin on his face was delicious, delightful.

He looked like everything Minhyuk fantasized about waking up to when he woke alone on his straw-filled mattress at home – tousled and bronzed by the morning light, cheeks pink and eyes hazy with sleep. Hoseok arched his back, stretching, and Minhyuk’s mouth went a little dry and his heart went a little faster. Hoseok’s hands were still on his shoulders, pinning him down without effort.

_Hi,_ Hoseok said, smiling like he knew everything Minhyuk was thinking.

He was everything Minhyuk wasn’t – firm, full muscles, solid chest and back, sturdy everywhere, well-fed, big under Minhyuk’s hands. And Minhyuk needed to touch, to feel, to get his fill until the next time. He skimmed his palms up Hoseok’s sides, down the broadness of his back, over the chiseled definition of his chest. Taking his time, marveling at the physical wonder that was Hoseok.

Hoseok shivered when Minhyuk’s fingers ghosted over his abdomen, tongue peeking out to swipe at his lower lip. He shuddered out a breath when Minhyuk reached lower. His eyes slid shut, lips parting in a faint smile.

_Hi,_ Minhyuk whispered. He watched the bob in Hoseok’s throat as Hoseok swallowed, watched the fluttering of Hoseok’s eyelids as he moaned deep but quiet, watched Hoseok’s lips as half-formed sentences started spilling out. He watched Hoseok’s body go rigid as he came, splattering over Minhyuk's stomach in a few long pulses, and then he waited, stroking Hoseok’s hips, until Hoseok pulled his eyes open to look at him with hazy adoration.

And then, once Hoseok had caught his breath, Minhyuk guided his head down between his legs. Groaned deep as the wet heat of Hoseok’s mouth enveloped him.

Later still, once Minhyuk had dozed off the post-coital exhaustion and the exhaustion of still trying to wake up the first time, he finally lumbered to his feet. Hoseok followed. They dressed gracelessly, the summer heat filling the entire cabin. Minhyuk’s stomach growled as he struggled to get his legs into his pants.

_Have the bread,_ Hoseok said.

There was one slice left from yesterday, going stale, but Minhyuk ate it greedily, not satisfied at all once it was gone.

_I can’t believe you had sex with me when there was no food,_ he said. _You know how hungry it makes me._

Hoseok just laughed under his breath, whispered something that sounded like _You started it_. He’d barely stopped smiling all morning. Every time Minhyuk looked at him and Hoseok caught his eye, his entire body tingled.

Somehow, Minhyuk made it to the door, clothes on right, heart buzzing in his chest.

_Wait._

He turned, and found Hoseok’s smile gone, replaced by something much more tentative. Hoseok shifted his weight by the rickety table still laid out with yesterday’s plates and silverware.

_Wait here,_ he said. _I’ll ride back to the castle, bring us breakfast. Wait for me here._

_Hoseok –_

_Please._ Hoseok approached him, took his elbows. _I want to have breakfast with you._

And again, Minhyuk fought to keep the longing out of his voice when he said, _I have to go home. I have to catch tonight’s dinner. I have to let my mother know I’m all right._  It was hard to argue with Hoseok’s face so close, when Minhyuk wanted to lie back down with him and kiss him and spend a day just not being himself, not worrying about his worries. A day just being Hoseok’s, the cabin their world, sleep their only obligation.

_Will she be worried?_

_No,_ Minhyuk admitted, because Hoseok already knew this. _She’ll give it another day, but still. Dinner. Tonight. There won’t be any if I don’t go fishing._

_I’ll bring extra food. Please. Just once._ Hoseok rested his forehead against Minhyuk’s, breathed out warm against Minhyuk’s lips, _Please._

Minhyuk let Hoseok kiss him quickly. Stood uncertainly as Hoseok got on his boots and opened the door.

_I’ll come back in less than an hour,_ Hoseok said. He didn’t say that Minhyuk had to still be there.

Minhyuk heard him ride away and licked his lower lip, still feeling the tingle of Hoseok’s kiss.

For a little over half an hour, judging by the way the light shifted across the cabin’s floor, Minhyuk stood in the same place, staring at the door and wondering what he was doing. All he heard was the dull buzz of nothingness in his ears. His skin was warm, the air was warm, the sunlight sliding slowly across his calves was warm. He should have been moving, going – always going, always needing to be somewhere, do something.

But standing still felt so good. How could just standing still feel so good, when he _knew_ he had other things to do? How could he barely muster up any concern over the number of things he wasn’t doing?

When he finally heard the plod of Hoseok’s returning horse and felt his heart starting to jump in his chest, a painful type of excitement, he knew the answer.

He was just so in love, and Hoseok coming back for him without the promise that he would even be there meant that Hoseok was just so in love with him. That was all, and it was everything.

Three months before his village burned to the ground, Minhyuk considered for a moment that he and Hoseok would truly last.

Then the door opened. Hoseok still looked like he’d just gotten out of bed – one side of his hair flat, the other wild and cowlicked; the laces of his shirt done up hastily, too loose, revealing plain as day on his chest, for anyone to see, the mark Minhyuk had sucked there earlier.

He saw Minhyuk in the center of the cabin and two expressions went across his face – the first brief, a flash of astonishment as he went still; the second slower, lips parting but no words escaping him for several breaths, eyebrows pulling up, some deep-set worry crumbling apart inside of him.

When the words did come, there were two of them, thin with surprise, heavy with relief. _You stayed._

_Always,_ Minhyuk said. It cracked on its way out of his throat. Hoseok raised his arms. Minhyuk took the three strides to step into them, took Hoseok’s face in his hands, kissed him with all the warmth welling up inside of him. There was so much, it came out so fast, in a bubble of laughter against Hoseok’s mouth. _Always,_ he said again. _Always._

So it became a morning that seemed to never be meant to end. A morning of lips on lips, and then on necks, on shoulders, on chests, on stomachs. Hoseok’s hands in Minhyuk’s hair, Hoseok’s knees weak and Minhyuk’s on the floor. Minhyuk guided Hoseok into a chair, its back braced against the table, and climbed into his lap.

The heat sapped their energy, making the air thick and hard to breathe. Hoseok’s palms were sweaty on Minhyuk’s back – their skin was sweaty everywhere they touched, which was everywhere. Hoseok was hot, deep inside of Minhyuk, making his entire body tighten and tingle, but they were tired. It was only a matter of time before lethargy won out, before the summer swallowed them up, before Minhyuk’s arousal would wither into fatigue. All Hoseok was doing was holding onto one of his hips and panting against his chest.

That wouldn’t do. Minhyuk dug his fingers into Hoseok’s shoulders, nails biting into his skin. Hoseok gasped, body jerking, arm going tight around Minhyuk’s back. Minhyuk did it a second time, and Hoseok choked out his name, planted his feet on the floor, and bucked.

Minhyuk moaned, deep and delighted, and came with sweat trickling down his temples. It was only after his head had stopped spinning that he realized Hoseok had come as well, boneless beneath him, one arm still slung around his hips, sweaty forehead pressed to his collarbones.

_That was messy,_ Minhyuk said in a broken voice. His head lolled forward, lightheadedness making the edges of his vision glimmer.

After several deep breaths, Hoseok said, _And I left breakfast out with the horse._

The laugh burst its way out of Minhyuk like a sunbeam. Draped unceremoniously over Hoseok, he was too exhausted to move, but not too exhausted to laugh and laugh and laugh. Soon, Hoseok joined in as well. And then, spent, they just sat in their undignified position and breathed and slowly worked up the energy to clean up and eat.

Minhyuk wondered then, as he nosed sleepily at Hoseok’s temple and Hoseok lifted his face to brush their lips together, if waking up in Hoseok’s bed would be like this – getting to spend entire mornings with him, hours and hours of bliss, lazy and thinking of nothing but themselves.

* * *

“Hoseok wants to see you,” Kihyun says quietly.

They sit side by side on Minhyuk’s bed. Because of course Kihyun would return in exactly fourteen days, and of course that fourteenth day would be a bad one. A morning Minhyuk woke up exhausted for no reason other than the blankets he slept under seemed to have taken on extra weight during the night, difficult to kick off in the morning.

And of course, today of all days, Kihyun has to bring up Hoseok.

Minhyuk shakes his head, eyes on his lap. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

It hurts to hear Kihyun say it – hurts to hear the _way_ he says it. Like it’s hurting _him._

It hurts most of all that Kihyun had to return on the day Minhyuk is less sure about his place at the castle than he’s been in two weeks. He doesn’t think he’ll make it down to the stable today. He hopes the horses will be all right.

“Because,” Minhyuk says. “I can’t give him what he wants from me. I can’t do it. I told him that night. I’ve told you.”

When the silence lasts too long, Kihyun lets out a heavy breath. “How do you know what he wants from you?”

Minhyuk picks at a loose thread on his pants. “Do you think he doesn’t make it overwhelmingly obvious?”

“He just wants to help you.”

Minhyuk bites his tongue against the red-hot words he knows will burn if lets them explode out of him.

“Did you really mean it,” Kihyun says, “when you said you’d leave Hoseok to me? Are you really okay doing that? Have you really put aside your feelings for him?”

“No.”

Minhyuk decides he’s just going to be honest. He’s learned a few things in the last couple of weeks, at least. “I love him so much. He’s my…” He swallows. Breathes. Quietly tries again. “He’s my one true love.” A laugh through his nose, self-depreciating. “He’s the only person I’ve ever been in love with, the only one. So that makes him my one true one, doesn’t it? He was, at least. I love the memory. Maybe I still love the present. But I’m too tired for that right now. I just can’t…” He licks his lips, and when he speaks again, he doesn’t like how close to pleading he sounds. “I just can’t. Not now. Not that.”

“Okay,” Kihyun says, with a few quick nods. “I see. I understand.”

Minhyuk laughs dully. “No you don’t.” He scrubs his hands through his hair. “I love him. I love him still. But I don’t trust him. I can’t stand him looking at me like he wishes I weren’t all broken like this. The me he remembers isn’t _me_ anymore. The me that loves him… maybe isn’t even the same me anymore.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s making any sense at all, but Kihyun just sits. It would be easier if he wasn’t so patient. If he just cut Minhyuk off instead of giving him all the time in the world to spin thoughts around, and panic, and say more than he ever wanted to.

“Do you know the story of why we had to keep our relationship a secret?”

Kihyun nods. Of course he knows. Minhyuk and Hoseok’s romance isn’t even their own anymore.

“I lost everything, everybody, because of that stupid family rivalry.” Minhyuk’s hands fist on his knees, but he can’t tell what kind of upset he’s feeling. It all spins, in his head, in his heart. “We should never have become lovers. He shouldn’t have pursued me. I shouldn’t have let him. But we did, and now…” A flash of a memory is all he allows – the smoke rushing down his throat, throttling his lungs, his mother’s hand slipping from his. “Hoseok is the only person that I have left. But when I finally found him, he’d moved on.”

“He didn’t move on.”

“But it _felt_ like he did. It feels like, even though I’m here now, there’s _you_. _You_ were enough to take my place. I’m scared that, if he can love _you_ like he loves me, then I’m not special. And if –” His voice breaks. He tips his head back, squeezes his eyes shut. “If I give him my heart again, he’ll just end up setting it down somewhere, and then I’ll have lost everyone.”

“But that’s how he feels about you.” There’s a rustle and a creak, and when Minhyuk looks, Kihyun has turned toward him. Their knees almost touch. Kihyun’s eyes are wide, imploring. “He’s scared that you’ll just stick his heart in a corner and forget about it. He’s holding it out to you. He just wants to be able to hold it out to you.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” Minhyuk gestures futilely between them. “How can he feel the same way about the both of us?”

“Why not? You can feel indifference toward more than one person. You can feel hatred. Fear. Pity. Protectiveness. Attraction. Why not love?”

It sounds so simple when Kihyun says it. All Minhyuk can do is tip his head back and sigh until he red hot coil in his chest has loosened. It takes a long time, but Kihyun waits, patient and silent, through it all.

“And why are _you_ okay with me being here?” Minhyuk finally asks. Kihyun’s reply is instantaneous.

“Because he loved you first, long before he loved me. Because I believe in his love for me, even when I know that he loves you as well. Because even if you decide to reciprocate his feelings, I know that it won’t make him feel any less for me. It’ll just make him happier, which would make me happier as well.”

It makes perfect sense but still boggles Minhyuk’s mind. Kihyun’s knee is inches from his own, and Minhyuk can tell very well that if he were to stay at the castle, he wouldn’t just have Hoseok’s persistence to deal with. He’d have Kihyun’s as well.

“But wouldn’t it look bad for him to have two lovers?” he asks, still trying to find some reason for why what Kihyun is proposing would be preposterous. It _would_ be preposterous, but Kihyun makes it sound so reasonable, and Minhyuk can’t let himself be made to see that sort of reason.

“He’s a prince,” Kihyun says. “He can have as many lovers as he wants.”

A finger suddenly touches Minhyuk’s chin, gently turns his face to meet Kihyun’s eyes. They’re dark, and close, and impossible to read – or maybe too easy, maybe they aren’t hiding anything at all.

“But all he wants is two,” Kihyun says, in that utterly un-self-conscious way of his. He lets Minhyuk’s face go and gets to his feet. “We’ll be having lunch together, the two of us in the rose garden, tomorrow. Join us.”

He heads to the doorway, but stops before he exits. “Please,” he adds, and then he goes, shutting the door softly behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhhh has it really been 3 whole months since I last updated??? I've been so busy that I had no clue it had been that long, wow. But I've already started writing the next chap, so that's a good thing, right? Anyway, thanks for your patience, and I hope you like the chapter. Please consider dropping a comment if you do!

Minhyuk wants to join them, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to challenge himself – to sit down with Kihyun and Hoseok, just the three of them together, and see if he can pretend to have an appetite for lunch, for being with the two of them and all the love they’re obviously in. To see if he can withstand that, because if he can, then maybe there’s some way he and Hoseok can find their way back to each other. Or at the very least, some way that being at the castle won’t always mean suffering.

But he doesn’t _want_ to be around all the love Kihyun and Hoseok are obviously in. He doesn’t want to have to pretend not to see it, feel it all over himself, breathe it and taste it and _hear_ it.

He doesn’t want to go to lunch. But he doesn’t not want to.

The sun makes its slow crawl across the sky, leaving his time for decision-making ever shorter. Around noon, the leather-skinned stable master finds him mucking out a horse stall and coughs meaningfully to get his attention.

“You’re into lunch. Can’t have you passing out on the job.”

Rake in one hand, Minhyuk hesitates in the center of the stall. He can’t tell whether the show of concern is genuine, or if he’s just in the way somehow.  

“I was going to finish cleaning here first, get the job done.”

“The stall can wait. Go eat.”

Minhyuk sets the rake against the wall. On his way out, when their backs are to each other, the stable master speaks again.

“My old stable boy’s coming back.”

Minhyuk stops a few paces from the exit. The smell of hay and horses, fresh and musty, is all around him, a familiar comfort. “Oh.”

“Tomorrow.”

Minhyuk nods, though he doesn’t know if the stable master is looking his way. “I see.”

“I’ll still need you every other day.”

“You –” Minhyuk spins around. “You will?” Relief courses through him, little pops of hot and cold, melting the numbness he hadn’t even noticed start to take hold.

The stable master nods, or maybe shrugs, or does some halfway gesture between the two. The way he looks at Minhyuk is measuring, like he’s still figuring out how much he trusts Minhyuk in his stables. “You’re dependable and you work hard. Other boy’s still got his family to take care of on the odd days.” Bushy gray eyebrows rise high. “I’m expectin’ you to still be up to the job.”

“Yes,” Minhyuk says, relief nearly taking his breath away. “Yes, I am. I will. Thank you, so much.”

The stable master nods. “Off to lunch with you.”

Minhyuk goes, passing into the bright light of noon. He almost laughs, the emotion welled up in his lungs, but he can’t quite. He turns and heads for the rose garden.

* * *

They’re talking when he approaches, quiet words and warm smiles shared between the two of them, Hoseok with his elbow on the table and his cheek on his palm as he gazes at Kihyun beside him. Minhyuk feels like an intruder, even more so when they both notice him come around the roses at the same time and go quiet.

Hoseok looks surprised, and Kihyun doesn’t. Then Hoseok smiles – nervous, hopeful, anxious – and Kihyun doesn’t.

“Minhyuk,” Hoseok breathes out, soft and warm like a tickle of springtime sunshine.

Minhyuk can’t help it – his heart thumps, a hopeful little beat, even though his thoughts are a whisper of negatives and not a single line of his body is relaxed.

Kihyun says, “I hope you aren’t tired of chicken,” and motions at the table, which is laid out with just that. Chicken in sauce, chicken crisped and glazed, chicken in soup. Chicken in more forms with more garnishes. There’s one bowl of oranges.

Minhyuk casts a cursory glance over all of it, wondering if he stepped into an odd dream, wondering if he fell asleep in the pasture with the horses. The breeze flutters through the rose garden, rustling petals together, lifting his hair and skimming cool, then warm, against the back of his neck. Reality, then.

“I… came,” he finishes lamely, stepping up to the table. He eyes the tablecloth, where flowers are embroidered with golden floss into the deep red fabric, but he glances up for their reactions.

Hoseok’s smile grows more hopeful. Kihyun nods and says, “I knew you would. Now sit. I’m hungry.”

An order like that, even though it isn’t given as an order, is easy to follow. Minhyuk knows how to do it, so he does, sitting across from them both, spine straight as a beam, hands tense in his lap.

This is the closest he’s been to Hoseok since he fled Hoseok’s claustrophobic bedroom. Since he heard Hoseok and Kihyun making love. Since the last bits of his heart shattered right out of his chest. He tests it now – tries to become aware of his heart inside of him, to see if it’s mended at all – and comes upon something too fragile to handle just yet, so he turns his awareness outward. To the wooden bench beneath his thighs, to the scent of freshly-cooked food, to the presence of the two men who are about the only world he has left.

Nobody reaches for the food. Expectation lays over the table like a second tablecloth. Hoseok watches him, the weight of his stare noisy. Is he expecting a conversation?

Are they all going to talk?

Is that what this was all about?

Minhyuk’s fingers dig into his knees, but before he can decide whether to stand back up or ask what they’ve brought him here for, Kihyun breaks the standstill. He reaches across the table for a platter in front of Minhyuk and takes a chicken wing out of the sauce.

“Well? Lunch isn’t going to eat itself.”

He bites into the chicken, smearing sauce over his mouth. A stunted few seconds later, Hoseok serves himself with a knife and fork and begins eating with much more dignity, still glancing back to Minhyuk frequently. Minhyuk takes a drumstick from a platter near his hand.

The minutes drag by in silence, as slow as sap dripping down a tree trunk. Minhyuk focuses on the burst of flavors on his tongue – heavily spiced, with a spritz of citrus, a sugary glaze, the meat tender, the juice coating his fingers. The roses all around have a light, sweet scent, a perfect complement to the powder blue of the sky.

“How are you doing?”

Minhyuk’s eyes meet Hoseok’s, and snag. He can’t look away, can’t remember the last time he was so close and could see the faint flecks of gold in those brown irises. Hoseok’s silverware is still in his hands, but the ends rest on his plate. His brow is pinched, and for a second Minhyuk imagines himself reaching to smooth it out.

He swallows the chicken in his mouth, and it helps to push down his heart that had risen into his throat.

“Fine,” he whispers, not meaning for it to be so quiet.

Hoseok blinks, but otherwise doesn’t move. Just keeps looking at him in that longing, sorry way. His face is gaunter than Minhyuk remembers – cheekbones still high, but the softness beneath them caving in. The skin beneath his eyes is darker, too, bluer.

“How are you?” Minhyuk tries. Anything to get Hoseok to stop staring at him like that.

“I – ” Hoseok hesitates, struggling over what Minhyuk can tell is a mouthful of words he doesn’t know how to say. “Fine.”

Kihyun looks between them, like he’s trying to figure out how to steer things back on course, or onto any course at all.

Minhyuk almost laughs, a sudden fit of hilarity hitting him square in the chest. He’s dining with his former lover, a royal prince, at a table filled with chicken. Chicken being rapidly consumed by his former lover’s new lover.

The hilarity pops, a bubble burst, leaving an unpleasant sting.

He _needs_ Hoseok to stop staring at him like he’s about to crumble to pieces.

“I hope the food is okay,” Hoseok blurts out, rushing over his words like he does when he’s anxious. That anxiety crowds every inch of his expression, his emotions worn loudly like they always have been. “A visitor gifted me dozens of live chickens this morning and it seemed like a good idea at the time, but if it’s too much I can send one of my guards back to the kitchen –”

Minhyuk blows out a breath through his lips, silencing Hoseok mid-word.

He can’t do this. He doesn’t know _what_ he came to this lunch for, only that it wasn’t this. His silverware clatters onto his plate. Hoseok isn’t going to do this to him. Not more of this.

He looks at Kihyun, then looks back at Hoseok. Considers asking Kihyun to leave so he doesn’t have to say this in front of him. Considers not saying it at all. Considers the fact that he doesn’t actually care if Kihyun hears – doesn’t care who hears. The whole castle could listen, and he’s finding that he just wouldn’t care.

He sets his hands down on the table and pushes himself to his feet.

“You need to stop trying to win me back, if that’s what you’re doing.”

Hoseok stares at him, mouth open and speechless, gold flecks and heartache in his eyes, and Minhyuk stares right back. He has height on his side, standing while Hoseok is sitting, but he doesn’t feel brave or sure or sturdy, just shaky and like any second something is going to _snap_ and he’s going to do a whole lot that he’ll regret later. There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop talking before his words spiral out of control, but too late, more are coming.

“You need to stop expecting me to just go back to you, your room, your bed.” His hands start to tremble, so he curls his fingers and plows on, though there’s nothing he can do about the way his voice starts to tremble, too. “How you feel about me isn’t how I feel about you anymore. Too much changed, Hoseok. I’m not ready to go back to you. I’ll probably never be ready. You can’t change any of that by being kind to me, or by giving me space, or by doing this or that or whatever. If this…” He motions at the lunch spread out, a quick sideways swipe of his hand before he clamps it back into a fist on the tabletop. “If it’s all done with the motive of having me back, of _winning_ me back, you need to stop, because I can’t handle that.”

He swallows when he’s done, throat dry. Already, he can’t recall a single word he said, whether any of them were true. But still, tension slowly uncoils inside of him.

Struggling over his words, Hoseok says, “I just… wanted to do something for you.”

“But to what end? The _something_ doesn’t matter. It’s the _why_ that matters, and it’s the _why_ that I can’t take anymore.”

Kihyun clears his throat, reminding the other two of his presence. He dabs a lace-trimmed napkin against the corners of his mouth. “I’ll let you two talk,” he says, rising gracefully and leaving quickly. So quietly that Minhyuk has already forgotten about him before he’s disappeared around the roses.

“Why can’t it just be lunch?” Minhyuk asks. In reply he gets Hoseok’s pained stare. The question falls from his lips a second time, tired and heavy. “Why can’t it just be lunch, Hoseok? Why does it have to be for me?”

Hoseok parts his lips as though to answer, but all he lets out is air. And, once again, Minhyuk remembers Kihyun’s words.

_You’re breaking his heart._

“Do you want to not see me anymore?” Hoseok asks. “I’ll stay away for good if that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“Then what _do_ you want?” Hoseok begs. Pleads. His heart is breaking, spilling all over the table, and this isn’t want Minhyuk wants either. “Just tell me, please.”

“I just want you to expect nothing from me!” Minhyuk tightens his fingers into the tablecloth, something to hold onto as he feels himself spiral more and more out of the careful control he's built so painstakingly. “I just want you to not look at me like you’re missing everything we used to be! I feel like that’s all you care about. The Minhyuk from a year and a half ago. But time has passed since then, Hoseok, and you’re pining for someone who doesn’t exist anymore.”

“But… that’s the you I know!” Hoseok’s voice breaks. “That’s the you I saw for the last time, before –” He can’t say it. _Before my father had your village massacred._  “I can’t help that I don’t know how a year and a half changed you.”

“Then spend time with me now! Not trying to see whoever I was back then but seeing _me!”_ Minhyuk’s voice breaks too, and this snaps him back to reason. The tablecloth is bunched in his hands and his throat is raw, but still Hoseok just sits and takes it all – all of Minhyuk’s anguish and his frustration, as though he wants to absorb it, to relieve Minhyuk of it entirely.

_It’s because he loves you_. Minhyuk’s heart beats a fluttering, panicked tempo up in between his lungs. He lets out a broken, helpless laugh, wondering how he and Hoseok possibly became so broken and helpless.

“Can’t you just give up on pursuing me, on trying to _fix_ me, for a second and just… be? Or is that just impossible? Because if it is, I don’t want you to bother.” He spreads his arms out, a motion that encompasses the entire castle. “I don’t have anything here, Hoseok, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. I just… I just want _friends_. That’s all I can take right now. Just… people, someone, a connection. We were friends once, weren’t we?”

“It’s just…” Hoseok licks his lips, lowers his eyes. “You’re so different.”

A red-hot emotion races up Minhyuk’s throat, leaves him blinking back tears. “Of _course_ I’m different,” he rasps out. “I’ve been through things you can’t even imagine. It’s been hard. It’s hurt me. It’s been heavy, and sad. I feel heavy and sad _all the time._ It’s part of who I am now. And if you don’t like that, if you don’t like who I am now, then please give up on me.”

Hoseok’s head snaps up. “That’s not – I didn’t mean that –”

“I can’t change back to be the person I was back then.” The apology sits on the tip of Minhyuk’s tongue – _I’m sorry, but this is who I am now_ – but he clenches his teeth against it. He isn’t going to apologize for who he is. “I’m different, Hoseok. Time has happened. Do you understand?”

Hoseok holds his gaze, looks deep into his eyes, and nods. “I do.”

Minhyuk can tell that he doesn’t completely, but he’s trying. It’s enough to ease the tension inside of him just a bit more. He exhales, suddenly tired, a feeling he’s so used to.

“I need you to understand this as well. I can’t handle your feelings right now. I can’t have you shoving all these romantic intentions at me, or trying to hold me or touch me or just be around me like that. I can barely handle you _thinking_ about me romantically. I can feel it and it’s too much, Hoseok.” His voice quiets, the only hint of apology he’s going to give for all that he’s said. “I don’t want any of that.”

“How can I help you, then?” A tremor is barely perceptible in Hoseok’s voice. His heart is breaking, but he’s clinging to the pieces of it, still believing that he’ll be able to mend them.

“You can be there for me,” Minhyuk says. “You can still treat me like a real, whole, functioning human being, and not like I’m damaged.” He looks down at the table, where the cloth is creased deep from its time in his fingers, and no longer lies flat. “You can try to get to know who I am now, without treating me like I’m the same Minhyuk I used to be. And maybe that will help me get to know me, too.”

“I can do that. I’ll do that for you.”

“Thank you,” Minhyuk says to the tablecloth.

“But if you really don’t want me around, if it’s ever too much for you –”

“Hoseok,” Minhyuk bites out, the threat of tears once again stinging his eyes and his throat. “I have no one else in the world but you. And maybe, _maybe_ Kihyun.” He raises his eyes to Hoseok’s. “You two are the only people who know who I am. Who know I _exist_. And you, Hoseok, you may have missed a year and a half but you still know me more than anyone else and if you suddenly just… just stop being a part of my life, how will I even know if I exist or not? How will I figure out who the hell I am anymore?”

He doesn’t want the Hoseok who’s in love with him. He wants the headstrong but foolish Hoseok who first stumbled out of the bushes at the edge of the river, the Hoseok who’s an idealist and who finds the light in every situation. He wants the Hoseok who managed to make his bad days enjoyable.

“I just want to not be alone.”

“I promise,” Hoseok says, tears in his eyes just like there are tears in Minhyuk’s, not spilling over for either of them. He starts to reach, but catches himself and sets his hand on the table. “I promise I’ll be there for you, however you want me to be. As long as you tell me how, I’ll listen. I promise, Minhyuk.”

And Minhyuk knows, can see it – in those beautiful eyes, eyes he used to see a future in, glimpses of a happy ending that could be dreamed into reality with enough conviction – that every word is true.

* * *

Kihyun knocks the following morning, and Minhyuk answers the door with a labored breath. He slept poorly, as he had expected to, kept awake by his mind repeating everything that had been said over the lunch table. Head heavy with fatigue and body achy with restlessness, he greets Kihyun with what he knows is a sullen, deadened expression.

“Are we really still pretending that these walks are normal? Like whatever exists between you and me is normal? Like yesterday’s lunch didn’t happen?”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Kihyun says. “I just like walking with you. And I know your schedule’s empty this morning.”

“And if I don’t want to walk?”

“Then I’ll leave.” Kihyun narrows his eyes. Not angry, just contemplative. “I’m not trying to upset you or push you around. I just…” He waves a hand, trying to piece the words together. Before he manages, Minhyuk sighs.

“Whatever. Let’s just go.”

He thinks that, as kind as Kihyun has been, he’s _definitely_ been pushy. He expects to get what he wants because he’s used to it, even if what he’s used to getting doesn’t involve hurting other people. Kihyun is methodical and relentless, and he just doesn’t seem to understand how overwhelming those can be in combination.

Minhyuk feels Kihyun’s glances as they make their way down the hallway – sharp-edged, digging, trying to find an opening. Minhyuk doesn’t know why he’s looking at all. Neither of them are speaking. Every second is an opening. Kihyun could open his mouth and say whatever he wanted and there would be nothing stopping him. And then, finally, he does just that.

“I think you did the right thing, telling Hoseok all that.”

Minhyuk lets out a long, loud sigh. “Did Hoseok tell you what we talked about?”

“No, he didn’t. But I can guess the gist of it from what I heard before I excused myself. And I’m glad you said whatever you said to Hoseok. He was very thoughtful last night.”

_Wonderful,_ Minhyuk thinks. _Because I really want to know what the two of you discussed last night._ What he says is, “Whose idea was lunch?”

“Lunch happens every day. Sometimes Hoseok and I eat our meals outside, when we can both spare a moment.”

Another long exhale. Minhyuk is so tired. “I mean, whose idea was it to invite me?”

“Mine.”

The sunshine hits Minhyuk’s face as soon as they’re through the front doors. He squints, holds up a hand to shield his eyes. “I’m sure you were hoping for things to go differently,” he says dryly. “It wasn’t much of a lunch.”

“But it made you say what you needed to say, didn’t it?”

Minhyuk frowns over at him. Who is Kihyun to know what he needs to say and what he doesn’t? Kihyun clearly doesn’t see a problem with it, meeting his gaze easily, waiting for a reply.

“What are we going to do today?” Minhyuk grumbles.

“Whatever you want to do.”

Minhyuk considers saying he wants to go back to his room, but it isn’t true. He enjoys the feeling of the sunshine too much, and the tickle of the grass at his feet. He enjoys the outdoors and the boundless openness of it, despite the castle walls in every direction. And, as irritated as Kihyun makes him feel right now, in a way he enjoys feeling this, too. Enjoys that it’s irritation filling him after yesterday, rather than anything more crushing.

“I want to see the horses,” he says, and in perfect unison, he and Kihyun turn for the pasture.

The other stable boy is nowhere in sight, but the horses are grazing when they arrive, and the foal comes clopping over as soon as it spots Minhyuk at the fence. Minhyuk chuckles and holds out a sleeve.

“You’ve certainly made a friend,” Kihyun says, watching the foal chew on the fabric.

“Animals are easy to be around.”

The mare comes ambling over and cranes her head over the top of the fence. Minhyuk strokes her face, and she nuzzles into his hand, breath puffing against his palm.

“That’s two friends. Aren’t you the celebrity around here?”

Kihyun has his arms folded on the fence, his head resting on top. He gazes up at Minhyuk, smiling a soft, unconscious smile, made sleepy by the warmth of the day. Made warm by his sleepiness. He looks so serene, and it makes Minhyuk feel off kilter. One moment Kihyun is impenetrable as solid stone, and the next he is this other version of himself, the one Minhyuk knows Hoseok must see all the time.

“You can pet them, too,” Minhyuk says.

Kihyun shakes his head the best he can. “I’ve had one bad experience with horses. It was enough.”

“You don’t seem that scared.”

“That’s because I’m keeping my fingers to myself. This is fine.”

So Kihyun keeps watching. The sun doesn’t hit his face so much as it lays gently atop it, glowing on his skin, making his cheeks golden and his hair bronze. To distract himself from the feeling of being watched, Minhyuk asks, “Is Hoseok behind me keeping my job?”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Kihyun blinks slowly, eyes not quite in focus, and clearly his mind isn’t quite in focus either.

“I mean, the stable boy I replaced. He’s back, but the stable master is still letting me work every other day. That’s Hoseok’s doing, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so. He –” Kihyun cuts himself off with the look of someone who’s about to reveal a secret they’d been keeping, but then that expression smoothes out and he lets out a quiet breath. “He wasn’t the one who thought of the idea in the first place. It was me.”

“Oh.” Minhyuk hadn’t considered that. He doesn’t know what to do with the information. Is it really so strange that Kihyun would look out for him?

Kihyun gives a little wave of one of his hands. “You don’t have to say anything. Well, I suppose you can go ahead if you’re angry, but –”

“I’m not angry.”

Kihyun lifts his eyebrows – lifts the one Minhyuk can see, at least. Amusement curls up the corner of his mouth. He is the picture of relaxation. “You sounded angry earlier.”

Minhyuk pins him with a flat look. “You are so, so annoying.”

Kihyun laughs, finally lifting his head out of his hands, deep humor lines forming high in his cheeks. To his utter exasperation, Minhyuk finds he’s no longer annoyed at all.

“And yet,” Kihyun says, crossing his arms and leaning one hip against the fence, the serenity on his expression replaced by that foxlike deviousness that is yet another version of him Minhyuk is getting to know, “you still grace me with your company.”

Pinned with truth like that, Minhyuk can’t think of a single retort.

* * *

When he goes to answer the knock on his door the following morning, the annoyance comes rushing back. He’s got a complaint on the tip of his tongue – about how Kihyun is too early, about how Kihyun doesn’t need to walk with him on the days he works at the stables, about how he’d barely gotten out of bed and was Kihyun actually listening on the other side of the door to get his timing so perfect?

When he opens the door, he finds himself face to face with Hoseok instead.

“Is this okay?” Hoseok blurts out, a burst of anxiety that is one part volume, two parts sheer nervous energy radiating off of him. There is nothing princely about him – too-round eyes, weight shifting from foot to foot, hands worrying together in front of him. He seems to take up so much space in the doorway that Minhyuk struggles to recover and find his voice.

“Yeah,” he manages. “This is okay.”

Hoseok nods, a quick, bobbing motion. “I thought that we should talk. If… if that’s okay with you.”

“We probably should talk,” Minhyuk agrees. He steps aside, surprising himself. “Come in.”

Hoseok hesitates a moment longer, then steps over the threshold. Minhyuk closes the door, and the room feels smaller, but not cloistering. The morning light still comes through the window. Hoseok isn’t a storm cloud in the corner; more like a single cloud in an otherwise clear sky, out of place but not ominous. A single cloud that is more wisp than white, barely holding itself together.

“I take it you already have things to say?” Minhyuk says, because Hoseok looks too nervous to speak without being prompted.

Hoseok presses his lips together in a thin smile. He stands in the very center of the room, like he’s trying hard not to touch anything that isn’t his, like he’s aware that he’s an intruder. Still, when he speaks, his words are measured, his tone even, his message clearly rehearsed. It’s like the man on the other side of Minhyuk’s door has vanished, and Prince Hoseok has come to visit instead.

“I’ll be direct. You said that you’ve changed in a year and a half, and I can see it everywhere. I saw it the moment I recognized you at the banquet, and every moment from then on. But I didn’t want to accept it, because I didn’t want to believe that you had been hurt so badly as to wear it so visibly. Maybe I hoped that if I didn’t acknowledge it, it would go away. I hoped that maybe that would help you forget, or at least give you somewhere happier to be. But to pretend like that was naïve of me. No, it was cruel. I’m sorry.”

He gives Minhyuk time to process. The sun keeps shining into the room. Minhyuk breathes in, then out, then repeats. He wants to invite Hoseok to sit down, something to make it feel less like they’re facing off across his bedroom, but the only place to sit is the bed and he doesn’t know how Hoseok would react to that.

Finally, he nods. “You could tell I’d been through hell, and you wanted to pull me out of it. I understand why you acted the way you did, you know.” He chuckles at Hoseok’s surprise, a bit of that princely aura slipping away. “I still know you, Hoseok. You’re still very much the same. Hopeful. Idealistic. And yes, naïve. I knew why you were behaving the way you did, even if it didn’t help me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok says softly, shoulders sagging. But he lifts his chin, a bit of that hopefulness shining through. “I want to know who you are now. Could you tell me about the last year and a half?”

“It won’t be a pretty story,” Minhyuk warns, though he’s relieved that Hoseok is finally asking, and hopes the warning doesn’t deter him.

“I know,” Hoseok says. “That’s why I need to hear it.”

Minhyuk motions to his bed, and they sit, Hoseok at the foot of it and Minhyuk beside the pillow.

He tells Hoseok about the terror. About leaving his smoldering village behind, about wondering for those first day, weeks, months, if he was being followed. If someone with ties to the crown would see his hair and know he’d escaped, and try to kill him in his sleep, or worse, in the middle of the street while all the other people just watched before carrying on with their lives.

He tells Hoseok about forcing that fear aside, replacing it with needs – food, sleep, shelter, money. He tells Hoseok about the jobs he took, and how each one led him farther and farther away from the ruins of his home, but also farther from the paranoia and fear. He tells Hoseok about farms with rich soil and dusty livestock and the ripe, full-of-life smell of manure. He tells Hoseok about orchards and the layer of dust that coated his hands after a day of climbing trees and foraging through bushes for fruit to be sold at the markets. He tells Hoseok about fishing boats, also dusty in the corners, but that sailed every morning away from the dusty land into the cool breeze whipped up over the ocean.

“And then I heard about you,” he says, still able to recall the smell of the sea and the jagged crust of the bread he’d been chewing on in that market square. Hoseok, who has been listening raptly to every word, half-hypnotized by the images Minhyuk has painted with his voice, sits up a little straighter.

Minhyuk tells him of the journey north, of the cold winter that sapped the life from the trees, of the colder people. He leaves out many details about the latter, glossing over the worst parts. He doesn’t mention how much each day of the journey northward hurt in every way possible. He just tells the barest of facts, enough to create a sketch without color, and soon he’s at the end of his tale.

He tells Hoseok about stealing clothing from a clothesline, and buying the concoction to dye his hair with the last of his coins. “And then I came here and I found you, but somewhere along the way I’d lost almost every part of myself.”

As his voice fades away, Hoseok keeps watching him, doing a valiant job of not looking pitying.

“Okay,” Hoseok whispers. “Thank you for telling me.”

“And you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you listened to me. So now I want to listen to you.”

“There isn’t much to –”

Minhyuk shakes his head. “Yes there is. From the beginning, from the night my village burned down to now, I want to know what happened. You say that I’m different, but so are you. The you who rules a kingdom, who throws banquets…” _Who’s in love with Kihyun, who has another man in your life…_ Minhyuk shakes his head again. “When I got here, all of that was unrecognizable to me. So you’re not the only one who felt like they’d met a stranger. I want to know your story, too.”

Hoseok chews on the corner of his lip for a second, letting out a breath through his nose. “Okay.” He nods. “Okay.”

He looks down at his lap for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then he begins.

“Your village burned.” Minhyuk is taken right back to the smoke and the ash and the heat, and then taken out of it as Hoseok goes on to talk about his rage toward his father, who laughed at his son’s soft-heartedness, his regard for easily-extinguishable human lives. After the rage came the desperation – Hoseok rode past the hunting cabin, past their meeting place behind the river. He rode all the way to the ruins of Minhyuk’s village, searched desperately in and around, and found no traces.

“Only some bodies,” he says in a whisper, his eyes haunted, when Minhyuk asks (and Minhyuk wishes he hadn’t).

Then came the grief, and then tantrums at court. “I became something of a nuisance around the castle. I was an embarrassment, too emotional, too naïve. I’d known of my father’s cruelty, but I’d never actually seen it before then. The reality of it, and the thought of losing you, were too much to bear.” He picks at a loose thread on Minhyuk’s bedsheet, forehead pinched, not seeming to notice that he’s drifted into his memories.

“Did he know about us?”

Hoseok’s fingers still, thumb and index pinching the thread. The rigidness of his body suggests he’s wondered the same thing before, but when he raises his eyes to Minhyuk’s, the uncertainty there is true. “I don’t know. I don’t… I really don’t think so.”

His voice cracks, an apology he isn’t saying but might soon – _If he knew, if he sent his soldiers to your village because he knew, then it’s all my fault._

Minhyuk shakes his head before Hoseok can voice the words. It’s too treacherous a thought to follow. “It isn’t worth wondering about. If you don’t know, then you don’t know. What happened next?”

What happened next was that Hoseok’s father, tiring of him, sent him away, gifting him his own tiny, irrelevant kingdom that wasn’t meant as a gift at all, but an insult. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hoseok says, because his kingdom was peaceful then and still is now. He had to learn how to rule, how to meet with dignitaries, how to be a prince on a throne rather than a son in a king’s shadow.

“I had to learn how to govern my own court, my own kingdom. It isn’t as hard as I expected, because I have advisors. People older and wiser than me who help me every day. And I don’t really care for power. My goal from the beginning has been to forge and maintain relationships with the kingdoms around me, with powerful families and lesser-known ones alike. And to make my people happy.”

“Is that hard to do?”

Hoseok smiles faintly, the motion weighed down. He looks older and wiser in this moment than Minhyuk remembers. “You can never please everyone, but I make it a point to invite my people to the castle so they can speak of matters in their villages. That way, even if I can’t fix every last problem they’re having, I know about them. I do my best.”

“Do you get tired of it all? Your responsibilities? This life you didn’t choose?”

“Mostly it’s lonely,” Hoseok says. “Everything is political. There’s no time for friends. I’m always busy. But…” He motions around himself. “I live a privileged life. I have little to complain about.”

Hoseok continues his tale, speaking of how he grew more comfortable on his throne. And eventually, Kihyun arrived. “A singer with the clearest voice I’d ever heard.” He doesn’t have to say any more. Minhyuk knows what happens next, and Hoseok spares him the details.

Minhyuk asks if Hoseok has heard from his father since he was sent away. Hoseok shrugs, back to picking at the thread, retreating into himself. “I’ve heard mentions of what he’s up to, which is mainly sitting smug atop his wealth and his power. He has never visited, and I don’t expect him to. He’s probably happy to forget about me, and honestly, I am too.”

Quiet settles around them again. The sun has risen a little higher, promising yet another beautiful day. Hoseok should surely be getting to the dining chamber, but Minhyuk feels no urge to point this out. There is peace in his bedroom. Him, and Hoseok, and calm, three things that he wasn’t sure could coexist until this moment.

“Thank you,” he says, “for telling me all that. I can see now that a lot has changed for you, too.”

“Life is…” Hoseok casts around for a word.

“Hard to catch up with.”

Hoseok meets his eyes, nods. Some of his princely aura – that voice he speaks with and the posture he holds himself up with when he is Prince Hoseok – falls away. He sighs and sags at the same time, but his hint of a smile this time is warmer than all the others. “Yeah. It really is.”

“But…” Minhyuk chooses his words carefully, or at least tries to, but they still don’t feel very graceful as they fall from his lips. “I’m glad we were able to catch up with each other. Just now.”

“So am I.”

There’s camaraderie in the air, a long-lost sense of comfort trying to work its way into the space between them – the length of a bed, Minhyuk’s knees turned in toward Hoseok and Hoseok’s toward him. It wasn’t an enjoyable conversation, but it was a necessary one, and being able to have it while facing each other lifts a weight from Minhyuk’s chest.

Maybe they aren’t impossible. Maybe there is something that can be salvaged, even if it’s just a shadow of what they once were. Anything is better than nothing. Being able to speak with Hoseok, honestly and openly, is better than never hearing his voice again.

“Will you…” Hoseok licks his lips. “Will you have breakfast with me and Kihyun tomorrow morning, in the garden?” His voice breaks on ‘garden’, a nervous crack. It’s a reminder of his youth. Twenty-something isn’t very old at all.

Minhyuk often forgets this fact, feeling so aged himself. He breathes in, and breathes out, and finds that the decision isn't a very hard one to make. “Yes. I will.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok says, with a smile that’s small but just enough. It softens the worry lines in his face. It richens the flecks of gold in his eyes.

He doesn’t linger, excusing himself to go to breakfast, with the unspoken intent of giving Minhyuk time to process all that they spoke about. When the door closes, Minhyuk falls back on his bed, blowing the hair out of his eyes.

He realizes, now that Hoseok is gone, that Hoseok didn’t try to touch him once. And most of him is grateful. He can’t help the way his heart softens, knowing that still, after everything, Hoseok is trying _so hard_ to care for him, despite the circumstances and despite both of their uncertainty.

But a small part of him feels untethered, because he’s never know Hoseok not to be physically affectionate, so this is just one more strangeness to pile onto everything else.

* * *

Meals with the two of them out on the grounds go something like this: Minhyuk arrives last, of course, because of course Hoseok and Kihyun arrive together. They all take the lids off of the platters and then comment on the food. It always looks good, always looks delicious; sometimes one of them asks “What’s this sauce?” of “What’s that on top of the meat?” just to get the conversation started. Then they begin eating.

Hoseok makes Kihyun and Minhyuk try a little bit of everything, putting portions on their plates with an insistency that Kihyun teases him for (“Will you stop clucking around like a mother hen?”). Hoseok ignores him, undeterred. He waits for them to say they like the food, or that it needs more of this spice, less of this seasoning.

Minhyuk can tell he just likes hearing them both talk, likes knowing how they feel about things, even if those things are just food. Food that is always delicious, and Minhyuk could eat and eat for hours if he was left to his own devices. He knows this voracious appetite of his for these meals they share is a good thing – good that he has an appetite when Kihyun and Hoseok are across the table from him.

Little by little, during the two or so days a week they all share a their meals together – sometimes breakfast, sometimes lunch, but never dinner because there seems to be an unwritten rule that Hoseok always sits this one in the dining chamber – Kihyun talks a little bit about his choir, Hoseok complains a little bit about the official meetings he must attend, and Minhyuk talks a little bit about the horses he takes care of. The conversations are stilted, but at least there are more words than silence.

Hoseok smiles and laughs and meets Minhyuk’s eyes while working valiantly to keep anything remotely longing out of his own. He succeeds in moderation, which is enough, because it means he really is trying, and that’s all Minhyuk really wants from him.

It’s easier to be with Hoseok when Kihyun is there, because Kihyun acts as an intermediary. Or, no, that’s not quite right. He isn’t quite a deflector, either. But with him there, there’s a sort of buffer that makes Minhyuk less anxious. Kihyun knows how to steer conversations, knows how to direct the flow of words, knows how to gather attention onto himself when Minhyuk becomes overwhelmed with it on him.

And then, without Minhyuk realizing exactly when the shift happens, their conversations go from being labored and halting to occasionally bursting forth with an ease that’s unprompted. They don’t just talk, they chat about delightfully mundane topics. The new shoes Hoseok asked to have made, which ended up several sizes too small; or the rotting head of lettuce Kihyun discovered in one of the desks in the choir room that nobody knows the origins of; or the dragonflies that have begun joining Minhyuk in the pasture with the horses on the days he works at the stable.

And sometimes they say nothing, but this no longer means silence. It means cutlery clinking on the tableware, a breeze through the trees or flowers or grass or wherever they are, as they simply enjoy eating and relaxing in each other’s company.

“Was that crack always there?” Hoseok says this morning, a morning they’re back in the rose garden, amidst the perfume of fresh blooms. He’s frowning at a split in the wooden table.

Kihyun shrugs, slicing into a poached egg and spilling the yolk over a steaming slice of sourdough bread.

“It probably was,” Minhyuk says. “We always have the tablecloth covering it.” Hoseok knocked his wine glass over onto it a couple of days ago, as they brunched to the sound of dogs and children playing on the lawn.

“Your servants are losing their touch,” Kihyun says through a mouthful of egg and bread, pointing his knife at Hoseok. “Can’t believe they’d do you the indecency of making you dine without –”

“I can see everything that’s happening in your mouth,” Minhyuk says, “and I’m offended by the indecency of it.”

Kihyun covers his mouth with his hand and finishes chewing his bite, though only after wrinkling his nose at Minhyuk. Hoseok runs a finger along the edge of the split wood, lower lip pushed out thoughtfully.

“It gives it character,” Kihyun says, at the same time that Minhyuk says, “Are princes’ tables not allowed to have cracks in them?”

“I was just thinking that I could probably fix it with resin.”

Minhyuk blinks at him. So does Kihyun. Hoseok looks from one to the other, his pout growing.

“What? Don’t look so surprised.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to do…” Kihyun twists his wrist in an elegant way that somehow means exactly what Minhyuk is thinking, so Minhyuk finishes saying it for him: “Useful things like that.”

Hoseok’s mouth falls open, his gasp theatrical, but then again, he’s always been a dramatic person.

It warms Minhyuk to be able to think this: that Hoseok has _always been a certain way_ , as though Minhyuk is still familiar with the very essence that makes Hoseok Hoseok.

“You taught me about tree resin,” Hoseok mutters at him.

Minhyuk raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize you were paying… attention.” His voice softens out at the end, because he remembers the exact day, the exact place, the exact weather when he taught Hoseok that resin could be used to repair marred wood. One of the chairs in Hoseok’s hunting cabin had a crack in the seat, and while Minhyuk had taken it outside and shown Hoseok how to fix it, Hoseok had smiled softly at him, never once looking at the chair.

Hoseok clears his throat, looking quickly away, doing a fair job of masking his flusterment. “I’ve always paid attention to my lessons. Just because I can’t _perform_ some of them –” Minhyuk knows he means fishing, and setting game traps, and tying hunting knots “– doesn’t mean I don’t understand the concept behind them.”

“Well,” Kihyun says, motioning with his knife toward the trees in bloom all around them. “Where there are trees, there is resin. Maybe you could impress us right now.”

“And what would I get if I succeeded?” Hoseok asks.

“A new tablecloth,” Minhyuk suggests.

Hoseok looks scandalized. “To cover up my handiwork?”

Kihyun chuckles, sopping up egg yolk with his bread. Minhyuk wonders when this became commonplace: him and Kihyun pairing up to tease Hoseok. Always gently, because Minhyuk is barely sure of his footing on even the lightest jabs, but always persistent. He feels somewhat like a child, like they’re all children, not quite bickering and not quite bantering. It’s refreshing, the closest to his age that he’s acted in a long time. The same is probably true for Hoseok and Kihyun.

A cough steals their attention. One of Hoseok’s guards, usually carefully situated out of sight to give the impression of privacy, has walked up to the end of the table.

“Lady Park has arrived,” he says, in a deep rumble of a voice that comes from inside his thick mass of a body.

Hoseok sits up straight. “Already? She isn’t due until this evening.”

“She’s in your office, Your Highness.”

Hoseok sighs. “I’ll be there in a moment.” The guard walks several paces away, but doesn’t leave. A subtle pressure, the most he can exert on a prince.

Hoseok sighs again, then rubs his hands down his face. “I’d like a vacation,” he says into his palms.

“From what?” Kihyun says dryly. “From being a prince? Good luck.”

Hoseok peeks at him from between his fingers. “ _You_ managed.” Minhyuk doesn’t miss the emphasis on ‘you,’ and his focus intensifies, locking onto Kihyun.

“I was never a prince,” Kihyun says quickly, too much bite to his words. He casts a sideways glance at Minhyuk. “And now he has questions.”

“You’re a prince?” Minhyuk blurts out. Everything he’s ever observed about Kihyun – poised and certain and used to receiving what he wants without struggle – rearranges and falls into new order in his mind. With it comes a sting of betrayal. He knows it’s foolish, but he can’t help feeling deceived.

“No,” Kihyun says with finality. His gaze is intense, as are his words. “I’m the illegitimate son of a queen. Born out of wedlock to some nobody of a father. I don’t count. A bastard prince at most.”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Hoseok says with a steep frown.

Kihyun spreads his hands wide in the air. “I’m not the only one who has. It doesn’t matter. I’m just saying it so that you –” He motions with his chin toward Minhyuk “understand that I’m not what you think I am. I’m as common as any commoner. I don’t care to be seen as otherwise.”

With that, talk grinds to a halt. Minhyuk looks from Kihyun to Hoseok, sensing the tension there. The remnants of an argument that’s been had before.

The guard coughs loudly. Hoseok sighs yet again, rubbing his temples with is fingertips. “Coming!” he calls, and then, grumbled so that only Minhyuk and Kihyun can hear: “As if being a _real_ prince gives you any true power around here.”

He stands, hesitates for a moment half-turned toward Kihyun, but in the end all he says is, “I’ll see you later.” He nods at Minhyuk, directing the farewell at him as well, then leaves, his guard following behind him.

“He’s just being grumpy,” Kihyun says, flicking a cherry tomato off the table. “He has plenty of power.”

“Are you a prince?”

Kihyun’s posture is defensive. He holds Minhyuk’s gaze, a knowledge in his own that whether he confirms or denies, Minhyuk will be mistrustful. In the end, he says, “I’m not a prince.”

“ _Were_ you?”

“Minhyuk. I am not. A prince.”

Minhyuk holds his hands up. “Okay. You aren’t a prince. I get it.”

But now he has something to dig at. There has always been something so very princely about Kihyun, after all. So very royal. Elegance in every line of his body, every rise and fall of his voice. But all of it marred by his steely plating, by the self-preservation that Minhyuk has realized is meant to deflect attention from himself until the moments he specifically wants it.

How does a bastard prince begin his life, and where? Which kingdom? Which family? Which royal court? And how does he end up in another prince’s castle, another prince’s bed?

Minhyuk turns his head to watch Hoseok stride across the grounds. He’s also curious about what called Hoseok away from them. It must be something important for Hoseok’s guest to arrive early and be able to take him away from the meal table.

So that’s two things Minhyuk is curious about. And third: he’s curious that he’s curious. It feels like a part of his old self is coming back. The Minhyuk who was always thinking about something, always aware, mind working constantly because it was his greatest tool, and defense, and sense of self.

“Please don’t treat me differently.”

At first he doesn’t catch Kihyun’s voice in the breeze, but then it registers and he tears his gaze away from Hoseok’s retreating form to find Kihyun’s eyes on him. Dark and unreadable – or slightly readable, a hint of plea. Whether Kihyun means to show it or Minhyuk has just become adept at finding the cracks in his steel, Minhyuk isn’t certain.

“I don’t consider it a part of myself, so please,” Kihyun says, “don’t let this alter your perception of me. I’m just Kihyun.”

There is something so poignant in that – _just Kihyun._ Just like Minhyuk is just Minhyuk, the last of his village, a solitary member of a scattered Lee kingdom, any hint of royalty in his own blood muddied by the passing of generations and the workings of politics.

If he can be just Minhyuk, then it’s quite all right for Kihyun to be just Kihyun. Even though Minhyuk considers his own history to be a part of him, considers everything he no longer has to be just as much of him as what he does. But Kihyun must have his reasons to be the opposite, and Minhyuk is curious about this as well.

“That’s fine,” he says to Kihyun, who visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping on an exhale. “I won’t look at you differently.”

It isn’t completely true, but it isn’t a complete lie, either.

* * *

The following night, he heads to the dining chamber toward the beginning of dinner. Sure enough, Hoseok is at the high table, Kihyun at his side. In the second Minhyuk looks their way, Kihyun looks up and sees him in the doorway, and his surprise must be enough for Hoseok to notice, because he follows Kihyun’s gaze to Minhyuk as well.

Minhyuk sits down at a back table and focuses on the food before him. He eats slowly, waiting for enough time to pass, not knowing how much time that even is. He lets Hoseok speak to the guests seated at his table or that approach from elsewhere in the room. He tries to listen in on the chatter around him, but there are too many overlapping conversations, none distinct or distracting enough.

When his plate is empty and he has no more reason to dawdle, he stands, trying to quell the nerves knotted tight in his stomach. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to wait until his stomach was full.

The eyes start turning to him when he’s halfway through the room, his path easy to trace. He cuts straight for Hoseok, a direct line to the front. In the cavernous breadth of the hall, the ceilings arching high overhead and chatter filtering deep into the alcoves along the perimeter, he feels exceptionally small.

He stops with the high table between them, Hoseok seated on the other side. For a moment he’s transported back to the night of the banquet, when Hoseok didn’t recognize him for that first split-second. But this time it isn’t Hoseok the prince looking up at him. It’s just Hoseok, eyes wide in surprise.

Minhyuk unsticks his tongue, and with all eyes on him, says into the waiting quiet, “Will you take a walk with me?”

Hoseok’s eyes, if possible, go rounder. Minhyuk hastily tacks on: “After you’re done with dinner.” His face grows hotter and his resolve grows weaker by the second.

Hoseok sets down his silverware, dabs at his mouth, and then lays his napkin on the table. He, too, is clearly aware of the eyes on them both, but he manages the scrutiny with grace. “I’m done with dinner. Let’s walk.”

He stands and comes around the table. The entire while, the other guests watch with their silverware still poised halfway to their mouths, goblets touching their lips, jewels glittering on their hands, intrigue glittering in their eyes.

Hoseok smiles a practiced smile when he reaches Minhyuk, as much for their audience as it is for him. He nods his head toward the exit, and Minhyuk’s stomach sinks further when he realizes that Hoseok intends to go through the main doors, not his private side exit. There must be some political reason, or something to do with propriety, some sort of castle rules (no commoners through the prince’s exit). It was foolish of Minhyuk not to anticipate it. Everything he just did was foolish, but it’s too late to dwell on that fact. They pass back through the entire dining chamber, every guest watching, and Minhyuk keeps his head high and his gaze fixed on the doors.

When they finally make it into the hall, he lets out a blustering breath. “I regret that.”

“Why?” Hoseok asks, sounding a little disappointed. They continue away from the dining chamber, which buzzes back to life behind them.

“That’s all everyone’s going to be talking about for the rest of dinner, or the week,” Minhyuk mumbles. He glances sidelong at Hoseok, who has thankfully dropped his princely smile and instead walks with his hands in his pockets. “Though I guess it feels a little powerful to draw a prince away from the high table and his guests. Sorry if those guests were important.”

Hoseok lets out a short laugh, face lighting up. “I should be thanking you. Conversation with important guests is basically hearing the same gossip and making the same comments on the weather night after night.”

“Well, at least they have new gossip now.”

Hoseok smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It’ll die down quickly.”

They lapse into silence, heading away from the heart of the castle, passing through puddles of moonlight splashed over the stones. Minhyuk glances over again, and notices Hoseok’s lower lip sucked into his mouth, his teeth working it and his eyebrows screwed up.

“What is it? You’re thinking about something. I can tell.”

Hoseok offers him another smile, this one smaller. It struggles to reach his eyes. “I’m just surprised. I thought, well… we haven’t been on a walk together for a while.” _We haven’t been alone together for a while._

“It’s different if I’m the one deciding that I’m ready,” Minhyuk says. And then he lets out a heavy breath. “I know it must be confusing for you, trying to figure out how to act around me, what’s okay and what isn’t. I’ve asked for a lot of contradictory things from you. You probably feel like it isn’t fair. Thanks for tolerating it, though.”

“I enjoy spending time with you,” Hoseok says, simply and sincerely.

“The meals are good,” Minhyuk says. They turn a corner and start down another quiet hallway. “The company’s not bad, either.”

“You look better these days,” Hoseok says. The tiredness beneath his eyes and the hollowed-in quality of his cheeks are especially pronounced in the heavy shadows of the hall.

“You look worse.”

“I know.” Hoseok gives a self-depreciating smile. “Kihyun has said the same.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

Hoseok comes to an abrupt stop. Minhyuk does as well.

“Why – what do you –”

“He’s a prince,” Minhyuk says, turning around to face Hoseok. “Didn’t you say, once, that the lowest you can marry is another prince or princess?”

They stand on opposite ends of a window, moonlight spilling between them. Hoseok’s gaze is heavy, probing. Maybe he’s looking for a sign that Minhyuk is upset, but Minhyuk isn’t upset. He just wants an answer. It was never about just going on a stroll, and he isn’t going to pretend it was.

“What Kihyun said is true,” Hoseok finally says. He’s using his princely voice, emotions guarded. “His bloodline isn’t pure. I can’t marry him.”

All Minhyuk can do is nod. He’ll process how he feels about this later, if he feels anything outstanding at all. “And what was so important yesterday morning that you had to leave us at breakfast?”

Hoseok groans, façade cast aside just like that. “Marriage.”

A chill shoots through Minhyuk’s body. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Hoseok says, head tipping up toward the ceiling, “all these foreign dignitaries want me to marry their royal family members for alliance purposes. No matter how many times I say I won’t wed, I still get visitors. Two or three a month. No, more now. It’s exhausting.”

Minhyuk swallows. It’s a loud sound in a quiet hall. “You’re an eligible bachelor. The most eligible. A young prince, new to the throne.” The lightness in his voice is forced. Hoseok frowns at him.

“I don’t want it, Minhyuk. I’m not going to.”

“I don’t –”

“I’m not going to wed,” Hoseok says firmly. “I don’t need to. A marriage solely for alliance... It’s so _heartless_.”

Minhyuk’s heart thrums in his chest, but still he refuses to examine it. Later, later.

“Do you have a choice? You’re a prince. You said it yourself. Everything is political.”

“As long as I’m my own person, there are things I won’t let anyone else, or my position, decide for me. Who I marry is one of those things.”

Minhyuk almost shakes his head. Almost murmurs out _‘Sentimental,’_ but he stops himself. There’s a fire in Hoseok’s eyes, born of stubbornness. And when Hoseok is stubborn, he cannot be dissuaded.

Minhyuk turns, and with a jerk of his shoulder, motions for Hoseok to fall back into step beside him. They continue their walk around several more turns in the hall before Minhyuk breaks the silence.

“If you could marry him, would you want to?”

Hoseok’s hesitation is palpable. The pair of their footsteps echo off the stones.

“I would, eventually, yes. Not right away, though. Not right now.” Hoseok grimaces, apologetic. “Our relationship is still young, relatively. I wouldn’t want to rush him into anything.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re probably too romantic to be a prince?”

This diffuses some of the tension. Hoseok exhales a laugh. “Many people have told me that. But I had no choice about either. They’re just who I am.”

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Minhyuk says.

If Hoseok is thrown by the sudden thanks, he hides it well behind a nod. And then there’s nothing left to say, so neither of them try. Minhyuk allows himself a couple minutes of self-reflection as they plot a course toward his room.

He’s admitted to two people that he’s still in love with Hoseok – Kihyun, and himself. But it isn’t the overwhelming, thrilling, heart-stopping love of years past. It’s faint and tired and trodden on, his heart beating on out of habit.

He’s in love with Hoseok, but not like he used to be. Maybe he’s only in love with Hoseok still, because he doesn’t know how not to be.

“Oh.” Hoseok looks back over his shoulder at a doorway they just passed. “Wasn’t that…?”

“It was,” Minhyuk says, continuing their progress away from his bedroom door. “I’m walking you back to your room.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone always walks me back to my room. I wanted to do something different for once.”

He can practically hear Hoseok thinking it – _You’re full of surprises tonight._

When they reach Hoseok’s room, Hoseok opens the door quietly, then turns around in the doorway. Torchlight flickers in his eyes.

“Will we be having breakfast tomorrow, or will you be busy?” Minhyuk asks.

“I’ll be busy.”

“Ah. Okay.” Minhyuk thinks he should find a more graceful way to say goodbye, but in the end he just says, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Hoseok says. He doesn’t close the door, though. He wants to say something, and Minhyuk does too, but nothing comes to either of them. The torch on the wall crackles.

“Tell Kihyun I said good night.”

“He can probably hear you.”

“Okay. Well.” Minhyuk shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Bye.”

He turns, and hears Hoseok whisper out, _Bye._ He heads back up the hall, toward the guards who watch in absolute stillness, their gazes invisible but weighty. And then he passes by, on route to his own empty bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for your patience! The next few chaps are gonna be a roller coaster of emotions, so buckle up! Please consider commenting if you enjoy :)

The morning is warm by the time Minhyuk and Kihyun take to the grounds, though they aren’t out any later than usual. The grass between Minhyuk’s toes barely has a touch of coolness left to it. The sky is cloudless. It’s shaping up to be a beautiful day, but between Minhyuk and Kihyun, there’s a silence that has risen since the moment he stepped out of his bedroom.

As they walk, Kihyun stares at Minhyuk’s feet. Or rather, stares once again at the fact that he’s barefoot, forsaking the pathway in favor of feeling the grass beneath his soles. Minhyuk waits, and waits, and waits, for Kihyun to say something, but in the end he’s the one who has to break the silence in half.

“You know, you can walk in the grass as well.”

“There are pathways for a reason,” Kihyun answers, not missing a beat.

“So then you’re staring because you just like looking at my feet.”

A breath through Kihyun’s nose, not quite laughter. “I’m staring because I wonder what it must be like to have such dirty feet all the time.”

“Spoken like a prince,” Minhyuk mutters. It earns him a halfhearted glare, the look hard for only a moment.

Kihyun lets out a quiet sigh. “You have questions,” he says, sounding resigned. “I’ll try to answer them. Let’s go find some shade.”

He leads Minhyuk across the grass to the base of a tree, where he sits down with his back against the trunk. Minhyuk sits a bit off to the side, and then Kihyun looks at him expectantly.

“I don’t have a list,” Minhyuk lies. “Didn’t you tell me to put this out of my mind? Now you’re acting like you expect me to start calling you Prince Kihyun.”

This time, when Kihyun lets out his breath, it isn’t quite a sigh. More of a hum, sound rather than empty air.

“I don’t know what you want to hear,” he says, combing the hair out of his face with his fingers. Casual, graceful, such a simple gesture somehow so elegant when he does it. So very princely. “It really isn’t like I’ve been hiding anything from you. I’m a bastard prince. My standing at home court was always tremulous. I knew from a young age that I would never have the status or privileges of true royalty. Many scorned me for no reason other than the fact that I shouldn’t belong at court and yet had been born there. And then my mother, who was never very nurturing, sent me away when it no longer looked merciful of her to keep me around.”

He unloads his past like it’s someone else’s, an old bit of news about a distant acquaintance. Maybe he’s doing it on purpose, to make his tale sound uninteresting so that Minhyuk _won’t_ ask anything.

Minhyuk leans forward, hands in the grass, and says, “What do you mean, merciful?”

A chuckle falls from Kihyun’s lips. It isn’t a warm sound, but there’s amusement in his eyes. A glow of appreciation for Minhyuk’s nosiness, like he’d been expecting it. Like he’d been hoping it’d rear its head.

“My father wasn’t the king, obviously. So as the queen, my mother’s reputation could have been ruined. Instead, she was a marvelous actress who played the role of a wronged woman, manipulated by a man – my title-less, nothing of a father – and tricked into bearing him a child.”

The look on Minhyuk’s face must be of distaste, or something close to it, because Kihyun chuckles again, his amusement growing richer.

“She won the public’s pity, then raised me up as though my blood weren’t tainted, and for all outward appearances was the loving mother of a poor boy who never had any choice over the circumstances of his birth.”

“And what were you doing during all of this?”

Kihyun raises his eyebrows, and the corners of his lips. For all his insistence the other day that the matter be dropped, he seems to enjoy the attention even more.

“What else? I was growing up and learning the politics of court, and my place within it. Which wasn’t a very large place.” He plucks a few strands of grass, rolls them between his fingers, but his eyes remain on Minhyuk, encouraging more questions.

“You seem like you were raised to be nobility, though. It’s in your mannerisms.”

Kihyun blows the grass off of his palm in Minhyuk’s direction. It doesn’t travel far, simply flutters back down to the ground between them. “I got the same education as my half siblings, because it was easier that way.” A grin, head tipped. “No one could say I was getting special treatment if I did all the same things that my siblings did. But when they came of age to go off and do important political things like get married and lead armies and try to found kingdoms, I was given a single choice. The choice all common men of age get in the Yoo kingdom. Join the army, and go fight for some land here or there for a few years, and maybe die if the skirmishes evolve into something more.”

Minhyuk frowns. The leaves overhead rustle together, and though it’s from a breeze, it’s almost as though they’re shivering.

“As you can see,” Kihyun says, “I wasn’t thought of very highly.”

“So you joined the army?”

“Of course not,” Kihyun says, and he follows it up with a true laugh. Right now he’s the Kihyun Hoseok must see – vibrant from the inside out, the steeliness in his gaze melted, laughter ringing wide over the castle grounds. The trees stop shivering. Minhyuk realizes he’s leaning forward, into the warmth of that sound.

“I said no,” Kihyun says, “and then I was banished because I’d just given my mother her best excuse to get rid of me. And then I wandered a bit, did some odd jobs…” He gives a vague wave of his hand. “But I knew I could probably make my way into another royal court and live a more comfortable life, so I learned what I could about my options and then chose which one to go to, which happened to be this one.”

“So your first impulse after being exiled from one kingdom was to seek refuge in another?”

Kihyun grins at him. “I guess I’d just gotten used to castle living.”

“You really do sound just like any other royal,” Minhyuk says, a faint hint of scorn in his voice. But he’s reaching for it. They both know it.

“It’s what I grew up knowing,” Kihyun says, nonchalant. “As much as I despise it, royal court is a place of comfort. I know how it operates, and know how to operate within it.”

“Would it be dangerous for you to return home?”

“Dangerous?” Kihyun sounds intrigued. He thinks it over a moment, as though he’s never entertained the notion before. He’s back to picking at the grass, fingers moving absently. “I doubt it. It wasn’t a dramatic banishment, no ceremony or anything. And it wasn’t like I’d _really_ offended the crown. There was just no reason to keep me around anymore. I guess I was one more mouth to feed. Honestly, I was probably hoping for the banishment myself. It gave me freedom.”

And then he smiles brightly at Minhyuk. “You might be a prince, too. I’m sure you’ve thought it.”

Minhyuk scoffs, incredulous.

“Might have been,” Kihyun remedies, “if things had gone differently.”

“If the Shin-Lee feud hadn’t happened, you mean.” Minhyuk shakes his head, one mirthless chuckle falling from his lips. “There’s no way to know. No way to trace my bloodline. It’s all muddied.”

“You have the hair, though.” Kihyun’s hand twitches, lifting nearly imperceptibly out of the grass, like he’s about to start reaching but second-guesses himself out of the impulse.

“That doesn’t mean much. For all we know, if the Lee kingdom was still intact, I might be a bastard prince just like you.” Minhyuk tips his head back, getting a view of the canopy and the sky through it. “I’m fine just being me. Being royalty sounds exhausting.”

“You definitely don’t have the personality for it. Bold enough to walk barefoot through the grass, when visiting lords and ladies could very well be taking a walk down the same pathways?”

Minhyuk bursts into a laugh. “It doesn’t take boldness to walk in the grass!” He sobers a bit when he’s met with Kihyun’s surprise. “You were being serious?”

He can’t help it – he laughs again, embracing the giddiness of it, the buoyant mess in his stomach and chest. He wiggles his toes in the grass. “It doesn’t take boldness to walk around barefoot over castle grounds, Kihyun. All it takes is not caring what anyone else thinks of you. Or even better, not paying enough attention to them to even think about caring.”

There’s a strange sort of smile in the flat line of Kihyun’s lips – and then Minhyuk realizes he’s pressing them together to keep from smiling.

“What?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” At Minhyuk’s frown, Kihyun continues on. “It’s refreshing. I don’t think you’d ever be able to pass for a noble.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Kihyun says, and though he’s teasing, there’s warmth to his words. To him, they’re a compliment, so Minhyuk allows himself to take them as such.

“I’m surprised that you care what all these noble visitors think of you. You don’t dress expensively. You sneak away from the galas Hoseok holds. You told me yourself that you hate them. But you won’t walk barefoot in the grass?”

Kihyun shrugs. “They don’t care who I am. They know I have no title, so I’m unimportant, which means I can either stick out like a sore thumb, or make myself unnoticed. Social status is a very shallow thing.”

He smiles at the look of incomprehension on Minhuk’s face, and leans in closer to him, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “They _expect_ me to dress plainly, Minhyuk. But if I dress plainly _and_ forsake shoes, then I’m going a step too far. And they expect me to dress lavishly for the balls, and once they see that I have, they stop paying attention to me, so I can sneak away. If I fit in how I’m supposed to, when I’m supposed to, I’m doing everything I need to do to avoid the worst of their scrutiny.”

“But you sit at the high table with Hoseok. That isn’t avoiding scrutiny at all.”

Kihyun’s smile stiffens. A little bit pained, maybe. A little bit suffering. And in seeing this, Minhyuk gains a little bit of clarity – nearly all the smiles before this haven’t been smiles at all.

Softly, Kihyun says, “It means more to Hoseok than it does me. I do it for him.”

A second bit of clarity, compounding upon the first, but this time it strikes hard and wretched, leaving Minhyuk’s heart aching. Kihyun grew up without experiencing the love of a family, the love of having a place to belong, the love of being wanted. Minhyuk’s upbringing may not have been an easy one, but he had his mother, and his village. He had friends, and within the walls of his village, he felt like he was home.

Kihyun had an entire castle, but Minhyuk wonders if he really had anything at all.

* * *

“I see you got a new tablecloth,” Minhyuk says by way of greeting, as he turns the corner around the roses and sees the table laid out for breakfast. The tablecloth is silver, of the same shining, slippery fabric as Hoseok’s extravagantly-laced shirt. They both catch the light and throw it back in dizzying shimmers into Minhyuk’s eyes. “Is this castaway fabric that the tailors couldn’t use to make you a new shirt?”

Hoseok snorts under his breath, and Kihyun smirks.

“Kihyun asked the same thing,” Hoseok says.

“You know what they say about great minds,” Kihyun says, raising his goblet at Minhyuk, who sits across from them with an ease he didn’t possess when this all began weeks ago.

“How did things go with Lady Park?” Minhyuk asks. He knows he’s pushing, but he’s already made it clear to Hoseok that he’ll push when he wants to, and that he wants answers to his questions. Besides, he’s certain Hoseok has already spoken about it with Kihyun, so if he truly wants Minhyuk to be a part of that, a part of _them_ (a concept that is still easier to avoid), then he’ll have to talk to him as he does to Kihyun.

Hoseok sighs. “It went as well as it could. I declined all her offers with absolute poise and graciousness, so she had to pretend to not be too upset when she left. It’s a game I’m used to by now.”

“How long will they keep letting you play it?” Minhyuk asks, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and mirrors the posture, playfulness skirting the edges of his smile. “Well, considering I’m a prince and they’re in my court… they don’t have much of a choice.”

“Are you ever invited anywhere else? To receive marriage offers.”

Hoseok’s smile drops, and he hangs his head.

“He is,” Kihyun says. “And he’s running out of ways to turn those offers down. _I_ say you make it some sort of test.” He gives a flourish of his hand. “The first prince or princess to ride through your castle gates with Conqueror Lim’s fabled sword, cast by the elves or whoever, wins your hand in marriage.” A foxlike smirk. “Then you’d never have to worry about getting married for the rest of your life.”

“Then everyone would think I wasn’t taking this seriously.”

“Are you?” Kihyun says, with an offhand laugh as he reaches toward the platter of chicken.

“I am.” Hoseok’s voice is suddenly serious. No smile at all left on his lips. His eyes flash to Kihyun. “I’m taking it very seriously.”

Again, Minhyuk feels as though he’s encroaching on the heels of a disagreement that has been had before. “Maybe,” he says to Hoseok, “you should just walk around barefoot all the time, and offend all the visiting lords and ladies into rescinding their marriage offers.”

Kihyun tries to stifle a snort. Hoseok looks between the two of them, confused, intrigued at the humor on both of their faces. Then he shakes his head, seeming to decide not to ask. His smile has returned, and that’s what matters.

It’s a smile that Minhyuk finds trained on him more often than not, a smile Hoseok doesn’t seem to be aware he’s wearing, attention Hoseok doesn’t seem to realize he’s giving. Minhyuk finds Hoseok looking at him more and more, with less and less trepidation, and the expression on his face isn’t one of longing. Hoseok’s smile is, for once, just a smile, the happiness behind it simple, devoid of layers and layers of meaning. It’s a smile that seems to say that having Minhyuk at the table with them is something marvelous.

Things are shifting, and have been ever since that first lunch, when Minhyuk told Hoseok all that needed to be said. And now it’s like Hoseok is seeing a whole new Minhyuk come to light in front of him. Though Minhyuk has to wonder – is he seeing a new Minhyuk, or is the old Minhyuk returning?

Who is he, and who is he becoming? He doesn’t think he’ll have the answer anytime soon. But whoever he is, he thinks Hoseok is just as awed with him as he is with himself.

It’s June and summer is in the sky and inside of him as well, lending him a lightness he’s still not used to.

* * *

 

He gets the idea one morning, out of the blue as though it came from the sky itself, whispered in a morning breeze. It grows and grows as he mucks out stables and tends to the horses and the pasture, and once he’s through with his shift, he bids goodbye to the stable master and heads high into the castle. Even if he didn’t already know where his destination was, it would be easy to find.

He follows the trail of music, voices blending harmoniously into one enchanting sound, seeming to vibrate in the air, hum in his eardrums. He never knew music could be beautiful enough to be felt physically. He’s never had much cause to listen to music, never had much music to listen to.

The choir room is at the end of a long wing on the top floor. It’s a quiet hallway lined so entirely with windows, the outer wall is more glass than stone. The effect is marvelous – great blankets of light flooding the hall, so that every mote of dust sparkles like crushed diamonds in the air.

The door to the choir room is large and heavy, a golden-colored wood that opens on quiet hinges when Minhyuk pushes it. Perhaps it’s impolite of him to open the door while the choir is still practicing, but the singing beckons to him, luring him closer, and nobody hears.

He takes in the glow of the choir room almost greedily. The warm slants of sunlight on the rich wooden floor and tables. There are stained glass windows, too – every color of the rainbow, scattering their colors over the warm hues of the wood. There’s an energy to the room itself apart from the singing, a thickening of the air that invites him inside, rests upon his skin, makes him instantly feel content and heavy.

It reminds him of the warmth in Hoseok’s hunting cabin, the sun through that window. It reminds him of squeezing together with Hoseok on the ledge, head on Hoseok’s chest, tracing idle patterns over Hoseok’s stomach with his fingertips. Letting his world slow down for an afternoon at a time.

He shakes himself free of the memory. The choir has its back turned toward him, facing the windows, save for Kihyun who stands in front of one of the panes of glass. He motions as he sings, expression pulling this way and that as he extends a hand toward one section of the choir or another, giving them cues with his face since his mouth is busy singing along. He is so enraptured by the sound that he doesn’t notice Minhyuk, either.

All the choirs Minhyuk has heard in his life (which have been very, very few; there was a church in his village but he never went) have never inspired much awe in him. They always sang too high, or maybe just sounded too perfect, voices ringing true in a way he felt voices shouldn’t be able to. Reaching too far for beauty.

He doesn’t know much about choir music or why Kihyun’s choir sounds different to him, but Kihyun’s choir _does_ sound different. There are stories in the sounds of their voices, words in a language Minhyuk doesn’t know, and yet he feels a stirring of understanding beneath his skin.

Deep, booming voices dropping low in solemnity. A rising trill of discovery. Hushed tones of trepidation. A billowing cacophony of excitement.

Abstract concepts somehow made into sound by people’s voices. It’s an incredible talent. Minhyuk wonders if, as the head of the choir, Kihyun puts some of his story into the songs he has his singers sing. If the low tones and slow builds and sudden crescendos of breath come from memories. Listening, Minhyuk finds himself back in his village – turning well-known corners, jumping puddles in the road, ducking into the market that always smelled of fruit gone a bit too ripe. Something about Kihyun’s music grounds him that way.

And then, after a sudden and heart-thrilling rise, the voices cut out entirely. Silence rings. Minhyuk stands in the doorway, unnoticed still. Then Kihyun smiles, small but pleased, and dismisses his choir for a short break. They spread through the room, no longer singers but just regular people, a rag-tag looking group from the surrounding villages. If their voices weren’t so superb, Minhyuk would never see anything remarkable in any of them.

As it is, he doesn’t have eyes for them very much anyway. As soon as they disperse, Kihyun looks his way, and Minhyuk knows at once that Kihyun had been aware of him all along.

“What is it?” Kihyun asks, crossing the room toward him. He wears his smugness like a second layer of clothes. So pleased that Minhyuk has finally come to see _his_ choir.

Minhyuk wonders what his singing voice sounds like alone. What it sounds like at all. It was impossible to tell with all the voices blending together.

“I want to watch one of your choir lessons,” Minhyuk says.

“My, aren’t you demanding?”

Minhyuk shrugs. “I have nothing else to do for the rest of the day. Unless I’d make you too nervous?”

Kihyun huffs out a laugh. “You can stay. Just don’t be distracting.”

So Minhyuk sits at one of the desks in the corner and watches, and listens, and feels the rise and fall of the songs. It’s enchanting, this music made without instruments. What enchants him the most isn’t a sound, though, but the sight of Kihyun belonging so unequivocally in this room, leading these voices.

It isn’t that he looks any different, but Minhyuk can sense it – this is the truest Kihyun he’s seen so far. A soul that’s one with its music. All the grace and ease Kihyun has been trained so painstakingly to carry flow from him without effort.

Sometimes, as he directs the choir, he tilts his head back slightly, like instead of basking in the sunlight behind him, he’s basking in whatever wonderful physical feeling the music leaves on his skin. Sometimes he’ll crinkle his nose, pull his eyebrows together at something he hears. It’s fascinating, watching him forget everything but the music.

When the lesson has ended and the room has emptied out save for the two of them and all the stained-glass sunlight and its dust motes, Minhyuk asks, “When did you realize you could sing?”

“Mm…” Kihyun presses his lips together, eyes going skyward as he thinks. Minhyuk still sits at the desk in the corner, and Kihyun sits on top of the one in front of it, legs dangling off. “I was around… seven, maybe? A duchess was visiting. She had a horrible voice but thought otherwise. Strutted around the castle singing a tune that got trapped in my head. I must have also gone around singing it, because I remember a kitchen maid told me I had a lovely voice.”

Questions rattle around in Minhyuk’s head. _How did you practice? Did someone train you? Did you ever sing at court? Did you have friends? What do you think about when you sing? What did those songs I just listened to mean?_

Too many to ask, and too personal. And he definitely can’t ask, _Would you sing something for me, right now?_ Kihyun would look surprised at first, and then he’d smirk, say some frustrating thing, and Minhyuk wouldn’t be able to bare explaining that he’s just curious, just wants to know what the head of the choir sounds like on his own.

“When did you realize you had a way with animals?” Kihyun asks him.

“I just grew up around them. In my village, you didn’t really have pets of your own. They belonged to parts of the neighborhood. You didn’t keep your dogs tethered. They wandered free, knew all the neighborhood dogs, had their favorite haunts. Same with the cats. You knew all the neighborhood animals and they all knew each other, and if they didn’t get along, one of them would move a few streets away.”

Kihyun leans forward, feet swinging, hands propped on the desk. He opens his mouth, and the door opens inward. Hoseok sticks his head inside.

“I thought I heard you two.” He comes in, a basket on his arm, a smile on his face. He directs his smile at Kihyun, holds his basket up. “I was thinking we could have lunch.” And then he looks at Minhyuk, extending the invitation before he even speaks it. “We could all have lunch.”

To be welcomed into their time together without it being planned beforehand is such a pleasant surprise that all Minhyuk can do is say yes.

He watches them, trying not to be obvious about it, but there’s no need for secrecy. There is an ease in the room, like for the first time Hoseok and Kihyun aren’t hyperaware that Minhyuk is there. They aren’t performing anything for him. Kihyun takes the basket from Hoseok and lays out the tablecloth over the two desks Hoseok pushes together – one of them the one Minhyuk is sitting at. Then Hoseok drops into a chair, letting Kihyun do the rest of the work, smiling softly all the while.

Minhyuk can see it so clearly – has seen it in glimpses he’s allowed himself thus far, teeth grit and heart clenching in his chest – that they really, truly love each other. But he’s no longer gritting his teeth. He’s really looking now and letting himself see that they love each other.

But there's room for him. He can sense it – a door left open, in case he’s ever ready to approach it. Hasn’t tried to understand what it would mean to be inside that room, on the other side of the door, with them.

Because why would they want him? They’re so happy. When Hoseok smiles at Kihyun, Kihyun smiles back. They’re complete. Minhyuk recognizes this like he recognizes any other undisputable fact. The sky is blue and the grass is green and Kihyun’s music room glows.

Kihyun sits across from him, beside Hoseok, pushes up his sleeves, and picks up a glazed chicken wing with his bare hands. Hoseok picks up a knife and fork, cuts a slice of pork, and puts it on the empty plate in front of Minhyuk. And then he does the same for Kihyun, who grunts his thanks through a full mouth, and Minhyuk doesn’t feel like a hot stone of jealousy has been dropped into the pit of his stomach.

They love each other, and it no longer feels like his world is ending.

* * *

“Can I borrow you for the afternoon?”

Hoseok asks it in the hallway, around the corner from the dining chamber. When Minhyuk had heard footsteps hurrying after him, his first thought was Kihyun, and his second was guards, and neither were correct. Hoseok came flying around the corner instead, and now he stands in front of Minhyuk hopefully, nervously.

“Borrow me?” Minhyuk repeats. His muscles are tired but invigorated from a morning with the horses. His skin is still warm from the sun. By contrast, Hoseok looks pale, and drained, and harried, hair sticking out from his head on one side, like he’s been running a hand through it all day.

Minhyuk wants to tuck him into bed, pull the blankets up to his chin, pat his head, touch his cheek, tell him to rest. But of course he won’t. He can barely remember the last time he touched Hoseok.

Hoseok nods, a quick bobbing motion. “I said I was busy this afternoon so I wouldn’t have to see yet another person who wants to talk about marriage.” He looks around the empty hallway and lowers his voice. “But now I actually need to be busy, and Kihyun actually _is_ busy, and I was hoping we could spend some time together.” He shifts his weight. “Is that okay?”

“So you’re trying to get out of royal duties.” Minhyuk can’t help it – he cracks a small smile at the nostalgia. “Right?”

“Maybe?” Hoseok says, smiling a little bit as well, still looking too unsure to smile completely. “Have pity on me?”

Minhyuk thinks about it for a moment, and Hoseok speaks up again.

“Ah, I meant to say. We’d be outside. Planting flowers.”

“You’re avoiding important meetings to plant flowers?”

A shrug, one-shouldered. Amidst all the drain on Hoseok’s face, there’s still that spark of mischief from the bygone days. “It sounded relaxing. You’d probably be better at it than I would.”

“Probably,” Minhyuk agrees, realizing that he feels warmer still, that he’s going to say yes, they they’re speaking face to face in the hallway and it feels almost all right.

Out in the privacy of the garden, behind the inner layer of hedges, is a small plot of empty soil. The flowers sit in pots on the pathway, probably purchased by one of Hoseok’s servants from a florist in town.

“Pink and yellow?” Minhyuk says, noting the color scheme.

Hoseok squats down, picks up a trowel. He isn’t dressed for the occasion at all. Clothes in colors of milky off-white, fabrics that might just disintegrate if one speck of dirt touched them.

“They’re nice colors together. Come on, show me what to do.”

Minhyuk coughs out a laugh and does his best, but the planting he’s most familiar with is for food, and the dry gardens he and his mother tried to nurture in their backyard were never very fruitful. But Hoseok gets into the motion of it, digging and planting and patting the soil and pouring water from the bucket that has already been filled up for the job. Minhyuk sits, legs crossed, and mostly just watches as the knees of Hoseok’s pants grow darker and darker with dirt.

“I find it hard to believe that your guests are really okay with you ignoring them in favor of planting flowers.”

“Ah, well.” Hoseok smiles to himself, gently patting the soil around the base of a freshly transplanted flower. There’s dirt under his nails, even a faint smear of it across one cheek. “My advisors were feeling a little sorry for me, probably. They say I need more fresh air. I say I need fewer visitors, but there’s only so much a prince can ask for.”

“Why don’t you just tell them all to leave? Ban anyone from visiting if it’s to talk about marriage proposals? You said you aren’t going to marry for alliance, so then why allow these visits to continue?”

“Because.” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, forgetting the dirt on his hand. A messy spill of frustration comes from his mouth. “Because, it isn’t that easy. There are… rules, sort of. Ways that things go. I can push, but only so much.”

“You can’t push things off forever, though. Or do you really think you can?”

Hoseok glances over, and the look in his eyes is answer enough. The reflection of many sleepless nights anguishing over the same question.

“How bad could it be?” Minhyuk asks. “Marry someone who doesn’t love you. Who doesn’t care about Kihyun. Who doesn’t interfere in your life, but sits by your side on the throne when it’s necessary.”

Hoseok lowers his gaze. His thumb worries at the wooden handle of his trowel. His teeth find the corner of his lip. “I just can’t.”

Minhyuk remembers something Hoseok said to him recently – _I live a privileged life. I have little to complain about._

A tune so different from _‘I’d leave everything behind for you.’_ From _‘Being a prince doesn’t mean anything to me’ and ‘I’d trade my wealth and my title for you.’_

He isn’t quite sure who he’s with today. Hoseok the prince. Hoseok his former lover. Hoseok a stranger, nothing at all like the Hoseok of before. Someone who is none of those, but parts of all of them at once.

“Do you ever leave the castle walls? I don’t mean for official purposes. I just mean for yourself. To go on walks or, I don’t know, visit the village at the bottom of the hill.”

Hoseok smiles melancholically at the flowers. “There isn’t much joy in it. My guards follow. I haven’t gone on a walk on my own for a long while.”

“Why do they follow you on a walk?”

“For my protection.”

Minhyuk snorts, and Hoseok looks at him. Lines between his eyebrows, a pinched expression that seems like it’s taken up permanent residence.

“I’m a prince, Minhyuk. Even if my life isn’t actively in danger, even if I don’t have enemies, there are always those who would harm royalty simply for existing.”

“That sounds like something you’ve been told to believe.”

A quiet chuckle. Hoseok nods. “Since I was young. I’ve had the same guards since then. I grew up with them. As inconvenient as it may seem at times, they do look out for me.”

“How ironic. Grown up and the prince still has his same babysitters.”

It comes out a little bit hard, a little bit scornful. The ways of the rich and royal confound Minhyuk, who thinks he has lived a much more dangerous life than Hoseok, and has managed just fine without guards flanking his every step.

Then again, with nobody to guard his village, it burned to the ground.

“I won’t pretend I don’t get tired of it,” Hoseok says, digging the tip of his trowel into the dirt. “It’s stifling, always being watched, guarded, coddled. I miss…” He licks his lips, almost doesn’t say it. “I miss creating my own freedom. I feel like before, with you, is when I came closest to figuring myself out.”

There is little Minhyuk has prepared to say to that, so Hoseok resumes his digging in earnest, and Minhyuk watches without really watching. His thoughts swim through his head, hazy and lazy. Somewhere nearby but just out of sight, the guards have probably been listening to every word.

As he looks toward Hoseok through unfocused eyes, Minhyuk remembers...

The dry rasp of the reeds as he and Hoseok trampled through them.

The naps he and Hoseok took in those reeds, where it felt like they were far away from the entire rest of the world.

Hoseok snapping off long, slender leaves and trying to use the knots Minhyuk taught him to weave them into bracelets.

The smiles he and Hoseok shared, the easy way those smiles always spread into existence beneath the sunshine, seeming to come from the deepest, brightest part of himself.

Hoseok’s lips on his, softly, quietly, again and again but never too deep or too long, kisses as soft as the brush of reeds on Minhyuk’s cheeks.

He remembers these things in moments, in a kaleidoscope, one image overlapping and blending into another. And then he blinks and his mind is clear, and Hoseok is digging in the dirt, smiling softly to himself like he, too, is remembering pleasant things.

“Hoseok.”

Hoseok cocks his ear toward him, focus still largely on the half-full plot of soil in front of him. “Hm?”

“You’ve told Kihyun about us. All about us.” Hoseok goes still. “Will you tell me about you and Kihyun?”

The silence grows thicker and thicker, until Hoseok says in a small voice, “Are you sure you want to know?”

Minhyuk nods. In front of him is Hoseok, half-stranger and half-lover and half-prince. Minhyuk knows that three halves don’t make a whole, but it’s fitting because that’s him and Hoseok – misshapen where they try to fit together, nearly finding common edges, but whatever used to fit has been damaged by time, and fire, and new love, and lost months.

“I want to know.”

Hoseok puts down the trowel, turns toward him, and sits with his legs crossed. They are knee to knee, with some space in between.

He swallows, looks Minhyuk right in the eyes, and says, “When Kihyun arrived at court, his singing was the first thing that made me smile in months.” And the story unfolds.

Their friendship budded quickly, but beyond that, the road was rocky. Kihyun tried to pursue him while he was still grieving, and Hoseok recoiled from his advances at first. “I don’t think he realized how broken I was. When he did, he let me grieve the way I hadn’t been able to in my father’s castle. He let me talk about you. He saw a side of me nobody else did, and then… he still pursued me.”

Minhyuk nods. There’s little else to do. The look on Hoseok’s face is, fittingly, of grief. Or guilt. They’re probably the same thing, in the long run.

“I was scared at first, of his feelings. And confused, because he wasn’t you and I knew I’d never be able to forget you. But he made me feel lighter, and eventually happier. I decided to try to open my heart again, even though it was difficult.”

This is the only place Hoseok breaks eye contact, looking down at his lap, shoulders heavy with shame. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Hoseok doesn’t lift his head.

“I mean it, Hoseok. You’re allowed to be happy. You were allowed then, and you’re allowed now.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok whispers. “Not for saying that, but just… thank you.”

Minhyuk thinks he understands. He wants to say the same thing – a thank you that he’s not quite sure the origins of, just that every time he and Hoseok can spend time together without things falling apart, what he feels the most is gratitude.

“Spending time with you like this…” Minhyuk mulls over the rest of his words carefully. Always careful, always tiptoeing. But maybe he can stop tiptoeing, maybe he can plant the soles of his feet down, still careful but no longer timid.

He doesn’t feel timid anymore. Doesn’t have to fight the urge to flee Hoseok’s side, doesn’t anticipate every wrong move Hoseok might make.

He waits for Hoseok to finally lift his head and meet his eyes. “I like spending time with you like this.”

Hoseok’s smile warms his entire face. He’s still so easy to please, easy to flatter.

“I think you’re good company, too.”

Minhyuk’s eyebrows shoot up. “Kihyun has said the same thing.”

“I can confirm that he was telling the truth.”

And just like that, as though a breeze has swept through the garden and lifted it away, the melancholy is gone. All there is is soil, and dirty knees, and Hoseok humming a tune to himself as he plants the rest of the flowers, either unaware of or unbothered by Minhyuk’s eyes on him.

* * *

When Minhyuk leaves dinner that night, there’s a lightness to his step, like the imaginary breeze of earlier still brushes through his hair and picks up his feet and carries him through the hall. He’s felt this way since the gardens, and should have expected that such a pure feeling would end too soon.

“Hey, you there.”

It’s a loud voice in an empty hallway, so Minhyuk knows it’s directed at him. He turns around and finds a stranger walking leisurely in his direction. It’s a young man with the mean eyes and strong chin of someone who has lived a life of getting everything he wants.

Minhyuk doesn’t say anything, but he watches the man approach warily.

The man smiles – an expression that is truly unkind, laced with a cruel sort of amusement.

“Well, look at my luck. I know just who you are.”

Minhyuk stiffens. The man sweeps his gaze over his hair, huffs out a chuckle. “Hair the color of snow.” He scans downward. “Sun-leathered skin over a sack of bones.” He looks into Minhyuk’s face. “A look in his eyes that says he thinks nobody is worth his time.” A smirk, showing a slight gap between his two front teeth. “You’re the prince’s new whore.”

The word drives through Minhyuk like a metal stake through a weakened plank of wood. The viciousness is like the hammer slamming it in deeper, making him splinter. Something that only exists inside of him buckles.

_“Excuse you?”_

Kihyun’s voice comes around the corner before he does. The man turns, and Kihyun appears, a compact form of fury, an arm drawn back. There’s a sound of impact, not quite the _smack!_ of a slap, nor the _thud!_ of a punch. A confused sound trying to be both at once, laced through with the snarl Kihyun lets out as his fist connects with the man’s face.

The man’s head snaps sideways and he staggers, clutching at his cheek, but he finds his balance. When he faces Kihyun, though, he doesn’t move. Behind him, Minhyuk doesn’t either. Kihyun is the fiercest storm cloud he has ever seen.

_“You,”_ Kihyun spits out, malice so saturated into his voice it’s like a crack of thunder. “Leave. Before the prince has even more reason to reconsider your status as a guest here.”

The man turns toward Minhyuk. He looks furious, but also cornered, chastised, and heartily aware that he holds less power than he’d like. He grinds his teeth, then casts a mutinous glance at Kihyun, before shouldering past Minhyuk and striding off. His stomps carry on long past when he’s gone out of sight.

“I’m sorry,” Kihyun says tightly, into an equally tight silence, “that you had to experience that.”

Minhyuk stands stunned, until Kihyun takes his wrist and leads him down the hall.

In Minhyuk’s room, Kihyun shakes out his hand. His fingers from the second knuckle down to his fingernails are red. “I couldn’t decide if I was going to punch him or slap him. I’m still not sure what I ended up doing.”

“How did he know who I was?” Minhyuk asks.

Kihyun’s reluctance is palpable, and through it, Minhyuk already gathers the answer. Still, Kihyun says haltingly, “There are… rumors. Guests have noticed the time you spend, with us, with Hoseok. Word has spread.”

“So that’s the reputation I have, then. A prince’s whore.” He chuckles mirthlessly, flopping down to sit on the edge of his bed. The stake is still buried deep inside of him, aching in his chest. “It’d be better not to be known at all.”

Cautiously, Kihyun sits beside him and lays a hand – his hitting one, knuckles bruise-red – on Minhyuk’s knee. “Gossip like that blows over quickly. It was likely started by a guest who was bored at court and needed something to bring back home.” He gives Minhyuk’s knee a squeeze, and waits until Minhyuk meets his eyes. “Gossip counts for very little.”

Something about the situation leaves Minhyuk antsy. It feels strange to have Kihyun so obviously trying to comfort him, and so obviously trying not to cross any lines to do so.

“Gossip is tall tales,” he says. “The truth stretched beyond what it is, and that’s what got my entire family banished from our kingdom and my entire village murdered by a king.”

Kihyun retracts his hand from Minhyuk’s knee. “You did say you didn’t care what people thought of you.” He nods down at Minhyuk’s bare feet. “Or was that not true?”

“I’m just tired. Tired of being looked at as though I’m worth less than the dirt beneath someone’s shoe.”

“Nobody who matters thinks that,” Kihyun says softly.

“Only you and Hoseok don’t think that. Are you saying you’re the only two who matter?”

Kihyun lets him wallow in silence for a few minutes. Just when it’s becoming unbearable, when Minhyuk is going to ask him to say something, anything, he does.

“I have good news. Hoseok finally got a bedroom with a window. I told him how much you hated the one he had.”

“Congratulations.”

“You’re good leverage.”

Minhyuk chuckles. “A whore, and good leverage.”

“If you’re a whore, then I’m a whore too. And if that means getting to do what I want in a huge castle, I’d say it’s a pretty favorable deal.”

Minhyuk lets out a long breath, letting himself be cheered a little bit. “Who was that man?” he asks.

A sneer curls Kihyun’s lips. “As far as I’m aware, his sister is looking for Hoseok’s hand in marriage, and he’s been sent as envoy to paint her in good favor. Not that he’s done such a good job.”

“You don’t have to tell Hoseok about it. He’ll just get upset.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“All right, then.” The bed creaks as Kihyun sets his hands on his knees, weight shifting as he prepares to stand.

“Wait,” Minhyuk says quickly.

Kihyun turns to him. Before he can second-guess it, Minhyuk acts on his impulse, leaning over and pressing his lips to Kihyun’s. And then he realizes what he’s just done.

He pulls back just as quickly, shocked at himself, at the look of confusion on Kihyun’s face. He’d wanted to do it, just to see. If he’d feel anything at all, maybe. He didn’t, except for the physical sensation of Kihyun’s lips against his.

“I don’t –” he starts to say, but Kihyun touches his cheek, startling him into silence. Kihyun kisses him, holds it a bit longer, pulls back a bit slower.

“I would be fine with it,” Kihyun says, not one bit flustered, face still close and voice low. His gaze travels impossibly slowly from Minhyuk’s mouth to his eyes, making something hot drop into Minhyuk’s stomach, making his heart, if possible, skip a beat. “But it’s up to you to decide if you would be okay with it or not.”

With that he gets to his feet and bids Minhyuk goodnight. The door shuts softly behind him, and Minhyuk stares at it for what feels like hours, mind loud and yet, somehow, absolutely empty.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe we were all blessed with yet ANOTHER wonkihyuk unit stage, am I right?! Anyway, this chapter is so so so minimally edited, but I want to get it up now because I don't think I'd have time to look at it all week otherwise. I'll get around to looking thru it next weekend probably to look for errors. I hope there aren't too many, and that you enjoy! Please consider leaving a comment if you do!

When Hoseok approaches him during dinner the following night, it takes Minhyuk a moment to realize that the dining chamber has hushed, that a shadow has fallen over him, that there’s someone waiting, watching him stare at his plate and push his food around.

He raises his eyes and finds Hoseok’s staring back, gold flecks in those dark irises, a smile working itself into the lines at the outer corners of his eyes.

“Walk with me?” Hoseok says, a question but also a hope, an upward lilt in his voice, and undercurrent of confidence that Minhyuk will say yes.

Minhyuk has spent dinner faraway, deep in his own thoughts, remembering _‘whore’_ and remembering the gap between the man’s teeth, remembering Kihyun and his lips and the look in his eyes after he’d kissed him back. He’s kept his gaze off of Kihyun at the high table, not out of embarrassment but just out of the disorienting feeling that he doesn’t know exactly _what_ transpired between them last night. When he tries to understand, there is a wall in his head, blocking him from any clarity.

His stomach, while empty, hasn’t wanted food, so his plate is a mess of smeared sauce and pushed around meat and vegetables. Hoseok awaits his answer, and the other diners stare, trying to be discreet with their jaws frozen mid-chew and their conversations frozen like a blizzard has blown through the dining chamber, turning them all to ice.

“Okay,” Minyuk says, rising to his feet. Hoseok’s smile grows, grateful, deepening the lines at the corners of his eyes. It is very, very quiet as they leave the dining chamber.

“Are you trying to make a spectacle of me?” Minhyuk grumbles, once they’re in the hall and heading toward the front doors.

“Not a spectacle,” Hoseok says, still with an easygoing smile and a lightness to his voice. “But I want people to see that I enjoy being around you.” His smile finally slips as he takes in the look on Minhyuk’s face. “I won’t do it again, if you don’t like it.”

Minhyuk realizes he’s being unfair. That Hoseok has no knowledge of what happened last night, the vicious words cut into him by that vicious man. Kihyun was good on his word. Still, Hoseok must know of the rumors, the attention Minhyuk has garnered. He must hear the way everyone goes silent when the two of them come face to face.

_They think I’m a whore._ Except that can’t be true. Surely they don’t _all_ think that. He hopes they don’t. Wishes it didn’t matter to him either way.

“It’s fine,” he says, with a nod down the hall to keep him and Hoseok walking.

They step out into the cool night air, and Minhyuk is momentarily surprised by the crispness of it, and then he remembers the summer shower that passed on through earlier. A burst of rain, chasing the horses and he himself back into the stables. By the time he raced back to the castle with nothing but his arms over his head to shield himself from the water, the shower had weakened, but it continued to fall for hours, gray streaks visible through his bedroom window.

Hoseok walks them down a damp pathway that gleams in the light of the oil lamps hanging from posts a few feet off the ground. The air smells freshly clean and mixed with dust, and dirt, and greenery. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but Minhyuk can sense Hoseok trying to decide what to say.

“I like the smell of the summer air at night,” Hoseok finally says, head tipping back, starlight shifting over his face now that the sky is clear. “Especially after the rain.”

Suddenly, his eyes are on Minhyuk, gleaming in the dark, somehow bright. The smile on his lips grows with intent. “Want to check on our flowers?”

Minhyuk blinks, lips parting but no answer forthcoming. His thoughts are stuck on _‘our flowers.’ Ours._

Hoseok’s eyebrows lift, maybe a centimeter, and he looks like he knows exactly what Minhyuk’s thinking. A soft laugh falls from his lips, practically lost in the sound of their footfalls over the pathway. “Come on,” he says.

The garden is lit with the same kind of oil lamps, light flickering over the pathway and getting lost in brambles and bushes and thick rose stalks.

“We just planted them yesterday,” Minhyuk says as they approach the fresh plot, now filled with fragile-looking buds. “I don’t know what you expect to see.”

“Nothing new,” Hoseok says. “I just want to look at them.”

So they do. Minhyuk’s surprised they survived the rain, some of their petals look so flimsy, but survive they did. They aren’t colorful in the silver toned starlight tinged orange from the lamps, but there’s still something vibrant in them. Maybe it’s the messy way Hoseok planted them, no rhyme or reason, patches of dirt showing through where he didn’t space them out well enough.

Hoseok sighs, and it sounds relaxed. Minhyuk inhales, and all he can think is that the air smells like Kihyun’s favorite color – that fresh, post-rain green. Thick and musty, a warm smell even though the feeling on his arms and the back of his neck and his face is cool.

_I kissed Kihyun,_ he thinks again, and tries to turn his mind away from it, but it’s hard when he’s also thinking _‘I would be fine with it. It’s up to you to decide if you would be okay with it or not_. _’_

Hoseok’s voice carries him back out of his thoughts.

“This reminds me of before,” Hoseok says quietly, a reminiscing smile on his face as he looks down at the flowers. The edges of his smile are tinged with melancholy, made bright by the moonlight. “When I could pretend I wasn’t a prince.”

“You say things like that, that make it sound like you’re so unhappy being a prince, but you aren’t unhappy, are you?”

Hoseok turns his smile on Minhyuk, and some of the glumness disappears, as though just the sight of Minhyuk is cause for happiness. _Maybe,_ Minhyuk thinks, _I am. For him._

“No, unhappy isn’t the right word for it. It’s just…” Hoseok bends down and reaches for a flower, delicately pinches the end of a petal between his thumb and forefinger, like he’s going to pluck it off. “I don’t feel like myself when I’m being a prince. I can do it, but it’s an act. So when I can put that aside for a bit…” He lets go of the flower, straightens back up. Rolls his neck. “When I’m not trying to impress anyone, or accomplish anything, then I feel most like myself, whoever that is. I feel happiest then.”

“I know,” Minhyuk says softly. Hoseok meets his eyes, his own irises filled with starlight. The feeling in Minhyuk’s chest isn’t filled to bursting, but it’s filling. Neither achy nor comfortable, just a sensation he can’t ignore. Hoseok still makes him feel things, and they aren’t all unpleasant. “You were always too romantic to be a prince.”

Hoseok chuckles, gaze lowering. His hair falls over his eyes, over his ears. It looks soft. Minhyuk clenches his fingers at his sides, as they remember the sensation of Hoseok’s hair, his skin, the planes of his face. The stubble along his jaw, above his lip.

It strikes him, that Hoseok at night isn’t something he’s seen much of. Before, Hoseok would always have to be back at the castle before nightfall, and Minhyuk would often have to be back home by the same time, if only so that he and his mother could eat the food he’d bring with him.

He’s been with Hoseok at night only a handful of times, most of them here at this castle, most of them unpleasant memories. But maybe he can replace those memories with these. With Hoseok’s gentle presence, the way the moonlight touches him softly, the way the stars twinkling gently in the sky are no match for his serenity.

“Let’s leave the castle.”

The words come out of Minhyuk in a rush, and his heart rushes afterwards. He hadn’t anticipated them, wasn’t even aware that they were waiting on the back of his tongue to be released.

“For tonight,” he adds on hastily, hoping the beat of his heart isn’t audible. Hoping that he’s managing to keep his voice steady. That it didn’t sound like he just said _‘Run away with me.’_ “Leave the walls for a while and breathe. I think you need it.”

“You know what I need, do you?”

Hoseok’s grin is one Minhyuk hasn’t seen in so, so long. It reminds him of the petulant boy who first appeared from behind the rocks. The young prince who told Minhyuk to call him ‘Your Highness.’

It’s a grin that invigorates Minhyuk, tempers the fluster of his heart into resolve. He knows the guards who are just out of sight are listening to every word. He lowers his voice. “I know there’s something keeping you inside these walls, and whatever that something is, I’m trying to get you to break it.”

Hoseok laughs, then catches on and steps closer so his words won’t travel as far. “My guards will follow us. For my safety.”

“Then we outrun them. Unless you feel unsafe with me?”

Minhyuk doesn’t know what he’s saying. The words come in the same rush that fuels his heart. Adrenaline jitters through his body. He just wants to run, wants to sail through the night air, away from the walls and through the forests he used to know. Wants to dip his toes into icy streams and find quiet piles of stone and sleep on their sun-warmed surfaces.

But for now, he just wants to take Hoseok somewhere. Wants to see that spark of the old Hoseok come to life, more and more.

Hoseok looks at him with so much wonder, so much awe and delight, like he can barely hear his ears. Like Minhyuk is saying things he only dared imagine hearing.

“Well?” he says. “What are we waiting for?”

* * *

The night sky is clear, moonlight so bright that ‘night’ doesn’t feel like the right word for it. In shades of silver Minhyuk steals glimpses of Hoseok’s invigorated smile, the way he bites his lips to keep from laughing as they take the winding pathway down toward the village at a brisk pace, sloshing through puddles and stumbling over pits in the ground.

“They’re going to lecture me tomorrow,” Hoseok says breathlessly, referring to the guards stumbling along behind them, a few twists and turns back. “I won’t listen to them,” he continues before Minhyuk can reply, words spilling out. His voice is jumpy, so close to laughter. “This is worth any lecture.”

Suddenly, at a turn in the bend, he takes Minhyuk’s wrist and pulls him off the path. Minhyuk trips over his feet, but manages to stay upright as he and Hoseok squelch through the muddy underbrush. Hoseok flattens his back to a tree trunk, pulling Minhyuk up beside him. The moonlight still shines on his grin, and the finger her brings up in front of it.

The guards go trampling past, having forgone any attempt at composure, now dashing full-tilt down the road. Hoseok presses a hand to his mouth, bites into the heel of his palm to stifle his laughter. It’s still audible, high-pitched giggles in his throat, but the guards are making enough noise to miss it, and besides, they’re already around the next bend and out of sight.

Minhyuk’s lips twist in amusement, and he whispers, “What if they raise an alarm? They might think you’ve gotten kidnapped.”

“By you?” Hoseok half-says, half-laughs.

“They might! Which would immediately make me an enemy to the crown. What if you’ve put me in danger?”

Hoseok shakes his head, laughter dying down into a few last chuckles. “They remember how I used to be. Now I’m just making them relive the good old days, when they could never keep me in their sight for long. The days they thought they’d left behind for good.”

The bark is rough and cool at Minhyuk’s back, beneath his palms. The fresh air has left him invigorated, left an itch in his legs to continue running, in his body to continue moving. “So, what now?”

Hoseok peers around the tree trunk, and Minhyuk watches him. Takes in his wind-blown hair, the gleam of jewels sewn into the lapels of his shirt, the shift of his jaw as he replies – still peering out toward the pathway, and Minhyuk misses what he says.

So much has happened in the past two days. From planting flowers with Hoseok to being called a whore to kissing Kihyun in his bedroom, and being kissed back. To fleeing the castle walls with Hoseok at his side, mud splattered up to their knees.

Has all that really happened to him?

How is it all possible?

“There isn’t much point continuing on toward the town, since they’ll be there” Hoseok says, turning back around to face Minhyuk. “I didn’t really think this through.”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes, fondness blooming in his chest. “Clearly. Or you would have thought about how you’ve ruined your shoes and the bottom half of your pants splashing through mud puddles.”

“Is that your way of saying you want to return to the castle?”

Minhyuk shrugs. “I’m not sure what else to do.” And it’s true. His breathing has evened out, the adrenaline has calmed. The thrill was worth it, but now that it’s passed, he’s content with the short bit of excitement they had. And he thinks that, if they tried to extend it, they’d lose the authenticity of it. He and Hoseok are still learning how to be around each other again, after all.

“You’re probably right,” Hoseok says, sounding a little disappointed. He turns, and then, with all the grace Minhyuk was never able to teach him back when he tried to teach Hoseok things, he slips in the mud. His feet fly out from beneath him, and he lands with a squelch on his back.

The silence that follows rings out.

Hoseok blinks up and Minhyuk, who blinks right back down at him.

And then the smile twitches over Minhyuk’s lips. He wraps his arms around his middle and lets out a guffaw, head thrown back, laughter exploding out into the night. The force of it is so strong he thinks it must wake all the sleeping animals in the forest, sending birds fleeing out of the treetops, squirrels scurrying into the underbrush. They probably hear it in the village. Hoseok’s guards probably hear it, and have stopped to wonder.

When he gets his laughter under control, Minhyuk holds his hand out to Hoseok. “Thank you for that.”

Hoseok still looks stunned, but he reaches up. A devious smirk flits across his expression the second their hands touch, and then he grips Minhyuk’s fingers and tugs.

Minhyuk slips, toppling sideways over Hoseok, hands squelching down into the mud, which splatters over his arms, his face. His clothing, no doubt, though he can’t tell the full extent yet. He can feel it soak through at his knees, though.

“I forgot how much of a royal brat you were,” he says over Hoseok’s laughter.

Voice rich and warm and deep with the attempt to stifle his mirth long enough to speak, Hoseok says, “So did I.”

He looks utterly undone, hair tousled and a sleeve slipping off one shoulder. Body warm and solid everywhere it comes into contact with Minhyuk’s. Minhyuk can only imagine the mud stains all along the backside of his white pants. Everything about him, in this moment, is free and wild – everything Minhyuk was looking for.

Their eyes meet, twin reflections of moonlight finding each other, and Minhyuk has been caught staring. Admiring.

He wants to kiss him.

For a moment, he imagines it so clearly he almost thinks he does it – imagines slinging a leg over Hoseok’s hips so that he’s straddling him, imagines taking Hoseok’s face in his muddy hands and tipping Hoseok’s head up and crashing their lips together. Imagines the breath, can feel the heat of their gasps, the way Hoseok would grab at his waist, his hips, the back of his head. The desire sears in his stomach.

But he averts his eyes, turns his head, shattering the reverie. His heart twists in conflict, so he will not kiss Hoseok. Until his heart is no longer uncertain, he won’t kiss Hoseok.

When they walk back through the castle wall, muddy clothes clinging to them, Hoseok says to the guard stationed at the wall, “Let them know we made it back.” The poor guard looks them up and down, jaw going slack with surprise for a moment before he remembers he’s supposed to look impassive.

Hoseok chuckles, and they’re inside the castle walls once more. “Let me walk you back to your room this time,” he says, looking sidelong at Minhyuk.

Minhyuk nods, still feeling warm, still feeling Hoseok in his hands even though that hadn’t even happened. He must sleepwalk to his room, because he doesn’t remember the journey, only that they’re suddenly there, him inside his room and Hoseok outside, the doorway open. The mud is clearly visible now, and everywhere – splashes of it even on one of Hoseok’s cheeks, and Minhyuk can feel some dried against his own neck.

Hoseok has just finished bidding him goodnight, and is about to turn when Minhyuk says, “Hoseok.”

He acts on the impulse within him, all the warmth glowing in the center of his chest. He might be breaking his own rule, but it’s too late to stop himself. He puts a hand on Hoseok’s cheek, over the mud splatter there, and then leans in and tips his head and very gently kisses Hoseok’s other cheek.

Hoseok’s skin is warm, his jaw beneath Minhyuk’s chin prickly with stubble. Minhyuk’s lips tingle as he pulls away, and his chest tingles, and the hand that slides off of Hoseok’s face – fingers skimming that fine growth of stubble – tingles as well.

“Good night,” he whispers.

He shuts the door quietly, putting a barrier between him and Hoseok’s gob smacked expression, and then he starts to smile. Brings his fingers up to it. Feels his cheeks warm.

Who would have thought, that he’d kiss two people in as many days? And that those two people would be the two they were? And that, looking back, Minhyuk regrets neither one.

* * *

When he goes into town, it’s with his coin sack against his hip, tucked beneath the bottom hem of his shirt. He knows he won’t buy anything, but it’s such an exciting feeling – for a coin sack to actually thump against his hip as he walks, weight to it, some silver but mostly bronze and copper coins piled over each other inside. Not a lot of money by any margin – he gets a very modest salary working in the stables – but more than he’s ever carried at once in his entire life.

He feels a little smug. Money of his own, that he doesn’t have to spend to feed himself, to shelter himself. Hell, as long as he’s living in Hoseok’s court, he doesn’t have to spend a single piece of copper, much less any of the silver that rests heavy against his hip, that he’ll return to the castle with in its entirety.

He’s going into town for the walk, and for the fresh air, and just because he can. Why stay inside the castle walls when there’s another small world right at the base of the hill?

His spirits start to wane as he approaches the village gates. He can tell just by looking at them that they’re always thrown wide open, welcoming whomever wishes to pass through. Still, he can’t help the trepidation, the nervous dampness of his palms.

He steps across the threshold, and feels a phantom twinge at the back of his head. Of course, when he rubs his hand against the spot, there’s nothing there, not even a lump anymore. Still, the sounds of the village are suddenly louder, the foot traffic more frantic than it really is.

He breathes in, long and slow, and continues on inside anyway. He came to town to test himself, too. Or rather, to overcome a paranoia he’s tired of harboring.

It’s easy to find the market – stalls lined around the perimeter of the village square, a whole variety of trinkets, useful and not, on sale. Others might find it counterintuitive to go to where people flock in his state of anxiety, but he knows that at the stalls, he’ll be able to focus on the trinkets in front of him. Really look at them, and lose himself in the simple action of observing.

One table is filled completely with silver forks – real silver, tarnished in the creases where the metal makes intricate designs – vines twined around the handles, flowers blooming up and down the tongs, rendering them useless for actually eating with. They’re beautiful.

“May I?” he asked the middle-aged woman behind the stand, and when she nods, he picks up one of the forks. He does it to give his hands something to do, so he doesn’t bring them up to the back of his head. Still he has to fight the urge to turn around, check over his shoulder.

“How do you make these?” he asks, marveling at the tiny blue and red stones inlaid in this one.

The woman smiles, furrowing wrinkles deep into her face. Her voice is full and warm, though, and still sounds young. “It’s a trade handed down in the family for generations. We sell straight to the castle. You won’t find the quality matched anywhere else.”

Minhyuk raises his eyebrows, impressed. He has a momentary urge to buy one for Hoseok – he can probably just afford one fork. But he sets the impulse down with the fork. By the sound of it, Hoseok already has plenty. Besides, he doesn’t need gifts.

“Thank you,” Minhyuk says, about to move to the next stall when he catches a flash of white in the corner of his eye. His heart leaps, excitement and not fear. It couldn’t be, not that shade of white, and yet –

He looks, craning his neck, and yes – there – over the heads of several villagers – a head of snowy white hair. It belongs to a young man who makes his way over to a stall a few places down from the one Minhyuk is at. He doesn’t notice Minhyuk at first, attention on some trinket laid out on the tablecloth before him.

But Minhyuk’s gaze must be heavy, because eventually the man pauses, stops turning the small metal trinket around in his hands, and looks to the side. Their gazes meet. There’s no familiarity between them – the man has a long face, quiet eyes, an unexceptional look about him in general – and yet there’s a spark of recognition.

Of _‘You’re a Lee, and I’m a Lee, and we’re both Lees from the Lee kingdom.’_

This man may very well have never lived in Minhyuk’s village – probably didn’t, actually. And yet they recognize their shared history in each other’s eyes. Minhyuk has never met another Lee so far from his village. The market must still be loud, but he hears nothing at all.

And then the man nods, and he nods back, and they turn back to their stalls. A minute later, and they’ve gone their separate ways. Minhyuk has already forgotten what the man looked like, and knows that they will likely never see each other again. But he feels like he’s gained something. Another Lee, in the world, simply existing, and he feels a little more of the world open up around him at the realization.

That’s all he’s been doing for a while now. Simply existing. There’s something nice about not having to do anything more.

* * *

“I looked for you the other morning,” Kihyun says, before Minhyuk has even opened the door all the way.

It takes a moment for Minhyuk to understand, a moment of Kihyun looking levelly at him, patient and somehow pushy at the same time. And then Minhyuk lets out a soft, surprised, “Oh.”

Kihyun smiles at that. “You forgot about me? Our walks?”

Then answer is: Yes. Minhyuk had utterly forgotten. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind when he’d picked up his coin pouch with the intent to go into town. Why, though? Maybe he thought, subconsciously, that Kihyun would be too embarrassed to see him so soon after their kiss? But of course not – Kihyun isn’t the type to be embarrassed by much. His lips on Minhyuk’s proved as much.

His presence now, standing in front of Minhyuk with the same proud lift of his chin as always, the same composed expression, proves as much.

“You can come with me next time,” Minhyuk says. And then, hit with inspiration: “Actually, want to go now?”

Kihyun’s smile widens. And that’s when Minhyuk notices for the first time – Kihyun has a freckle at the corner of his mouth.

The village is bustling despite the early hour. It’s less overwhelming to step into the second time around, or maybe Minhyuk just feels more grounded with Kihyun by his side. Kihyun, who reminded him the entire walk down the hill that he’ll to be back to the castle in time for his choir lesson, but who strides ahead now at a pace that gives away his excitement. Minhyuk lengthens his own stride to keep up.

He’s never seen Kihyun quite like this – flitting between stalls, speaking with the vendors about their products, touching nearly everything. A fingertip to a silver figurine, a jewel held before his eyes in his palm, the back of his hand brushed against the fine fur of a coat. He’s like an eager child, amazed by the plenty around him, though he shouldn’t be, surrounded as he is by luxury every day.

Minhyuk lets him go his own way for a while, and himself meanders deeper into the market than he did last time. He stops to watch a glassblower shaping molten glass into red-hot twists and loops, and is half-mesmerized when a touch to his wrist makes him jump. At the same time, his heart jolts, a strange sensation that seems almost familiar, like something he’s forgotten.

Kihyun stands beside him, a hideous feathered hat on his head. “What do you think?” he asks, pointing up at it.

It takes Minhyuk a second to realize Kihyun’s fingers are no longer on his wrist anymore, that he only feels the memory of them. And then he grimaces at the hat. “That’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen.”

Kihyun takes it off with a perplexed frown. “I thought it looked fine.” And he slips away without a word more, only to return a little while later, this time with a case of glass marbles blown through with colored dye.

“It might be fun for the three of us to play,” he says. “The vendor says I could have it discounted, because I’m so handsome.”

This time it’s Minhyuk’s turn to frown perplexedly. “Why would you need a discount? And you know you aren’t supposed to take things from their stalls unless you’ve actually bought them, right?”

Kihyun heads away, slightly chastised. Minhyuk has to remind himself that, bastard or not, Kihyun grew up a prince, and is probably used to taking more than he’s used to paying or trading for things.

Kihyun touches Minhyuk’s wrist every time he wants his attention. Minhyuk quickly gets used to it, despite the frisson that ran through him the first time. At the castle, there’s little else to draw Minhyuk’s attention away, but in a busy village square it’s endearing how Kihyun will press the lightest and most fleeting of touches to the knobby part of Minhyuk’s wrist, just to get him to look at some trinket, some piece of cloth, whatever has excited him now.

“I found something you’ll like,” Kihyun says this time, fingers brushing Minhyuk’s wrist for a moment, their warmth already familiar. He’s holding a pastry, the bottom half wrapped in thin cloth. A sugar glaze coats the surface of the dough, which is golden and still steams, and smells delicious.

He holds it up to Minhyuk’s mouth, and Minhyuk obliges without much though, taking a bit and tasting warmth and sweetness, sugar and butter, and a thick berry filling. Kihyun chuckles at the look on his face and says, “Good, right? I already ate two. And yes, I paid.”

There’s a smear of jam at the corner of Kihyun’s mouth. Minhyuk exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “Hold still,” he says, and then, once again without thinking (which seems to be how he does most things that involve Kihyun), he rubs the jam away with his thumb, revealing the freckle underneath.

“You’re a messy eater,” he comments, saying it so he doesn’t have to think about the shiver in his stomach. He sucks the smear of jam off of his thumb, eyebrows raised, and then starts toward the next stall as though he feels just as casual as he sounds. Only when his back is to Kihyun does he allow himself a smile, for Kihyun’s eyes had gone round with surprise, and for once he hadn’t had a comeback.

* * *

He counts Kihyun’s freckles as the three of them share meals together – in the fresh air of the gardens, or the rich summer sunlight of Kihyun’s music room which always seems to hum with song long after his choir has let out. Minhyuk doesn’t bother too much with discretion. Something about the drowsy sunlight or the freshness of outside makes it seem unnecessary. Every day he finds another freckle, until it becomes something he expects out of each day.

There’s one beneath Kihyun’s left eye, which shifts when he smiles. There’s one high and far back on his left cheekbone, almost lost beneath his hair, and the more Minhyuk notices this one, the more he notices how handsome Kihyun’s facial structure is. He has one on the bulb of his nose, right in the center, and Minhyuk looks at this one when they’re talking to each other.

He has one on the side of his neck, right above the line of his shirt, and one day the skin around it is a blotchy red, and Minhyuk thinks of kissing it like he knows Hoseok was not long ago.

He wonders how many more Kihyun has splashed over his skin. If he has as many as Hoseok, in as many places. And then he’s thinking about Hoseok’s freckles – the one beside his belly button, the ones on his chest, his shoulder blades, his arms and ankles. He wonders if Kihyun kisses them the way Minhyuk used to – taking his time to pucker his lips against each one, letting time slip by as he steadily made his way over them all, making Hoseok laugh as he purposely smacked his lips against them noisily.

And then there are the discoveries he’s made about Hoseok since arriving at the castle, one in particular that he marvels over until he can’t help addressing it.

“Did your eyes always have gold in them?”

They’re in one of the gardens, just the two of them brunching early while Kihyun is busy with his choir. _Brunch,_ Minhyuk had said, when Hoseok proposed the idea, _is something only princes do._ Hoseok had smiled and said, _Well, that’s why I’m inviting you._

Hoseok tilts his head at Minhyuk’s question. They sit on opposite sides of a small wooden table, hardly wide enough for both pairs of their knees to fit beneath. There are crumbs at the corner of Hoseok’s mouth, and gold in his eyes as he blinks.

“Your eyes,” Minhyuk says, staring straight into them, feeling strangely calm, but an undercurrent of nerves, giddiness, something, rests just beneath the surface. He wants to push their knees together. “Did they always have gold flecks in them? I never noticed it before.”

Hoseok smiles slyly. “You know, there’s a myth that only a king’s eyes have gold in them.”

“But you’re not a king.”

“Oh.” Hoseok blinks, laughs at himself. “Right.”

“You forgot you aren’t a king?”

“I don’t know,” Hoseok says, cheeks going a little pink, “It just came out.”

Minhyuk leans forward, starting to smile. “Do you _feel_ like a king? Has having a kingdom of your own gotten to your head?”

Hoseok pouts. “Notice that it’s called a _king_ dom, not a princedom. There’s essentially no difference except for what title I wear.”

Minhyuk stays leaned over the table a few moments longer, gaze still locked with Hoseok’s, examining the tiny pricks of gold throughout the deep, dark brown of his irises. They’re subtle, but now that he’s seen them, they’re impossible to overlook. He sits back. “I really never noticed them before. They’re –”

But he’s interrupted by a cough. One of Hoseok’s guards – the large one – comes around the corner and announces a visitor waiting for Hoseok inside. Minhyuk is surprised, not at the visitor, but because it’s the first of the guards he’s seen today. They hadn’t followed him and Hoseok across the grounds and to the garden like usual, and he’d thought that Hoseok had actually convinced them that he didn’t need a chaperone for once. But here one is, and Hoseok sighs, getting to his feet and bidding Minhyuk a reluctant farewell.

Minhyuk’s day continues on, peacefully like they all seem to do these days. They’re filled with sunlight and horses and freckles and flecks of gold, the resonant hum of choir music, sometimes the thrum of the market and a sugar glaze on his tongue. A flutter of fingers against his wrist. Knees knocking against his beneath a small wooden table. A filling feeling in his chest, and a responding emptying each time he slides under his blankets for bed. He thinks of them both when he falls asleep – the gentle fondness of Hoseok’s face and the amused near-smile of Kihyun’s painting the backs of his eyelids.

Meals together are more frequent, and easier, and more fraught with a trilling undercurrent that Minhyuk can’t put a name to. Only that sometimes when his and Hoseok’s eyes catch together, his heart jumps. Sometimes, when he makes Kihyun chuckle over something, he finds something truly appraising in Kihyun’s gaze. The three of them are moving together, toward something much different from where they started when Minhyuk arrived.

* * *

When he looks out of his window one morning, he spots them down below, walking across the grounds, side by side and in no hurry. Just enjoying a moment together in the quiet before the rest of the castle wakes. To Minhyuk’s surprise, no guards trail after them. Maybe they’re watching from the main doors? Or maybe Hoseok really has gotten them to loosen their leash. Belatedly he notices their hands together, and marvels that he didn’t spot that first, and that the sight inspires no jealousy, no hurt at all. He feels like he’s lucked out at a glimpse of something precious, something real and strong and meant to be.

When Hoseok walks him back to his room that night after dinner, he’s hyperaware of the distance between their hands. He feels foolish, and hypocritical. Now that Hoseok has grown used to holding back his physical affection, Minhyuk finds himself thinking of it with a confused sort of longing.

“You and Kihyun,” Hoseok says, and then he breathes out a smile. His gaze is ahead and he looks so fond, which makes Minhyuk feel so fond, but he tries to hide it with defensiveness. There had been something knowing in Hoseok’s tone, and hopeful.

“What?”

Hoseok glances at him, one eyebrow lifting. “You’ve come a long way, the both of you.”

“Yes, well, he kind of never leaves me alone.” They’ve reached Minhyuk’s room and he enters, turns around in the doorway, but the conversation doesn’t feel over. He steps aside, and Hoseok accepts the invitation. There are things Minhyuk suddenly wants to say. He shuts the door and turns to Hoseok.

“Kihyun has been kind to me. I appreciate that. And I enjoy his company.”

“He enjoys yours as well.”

Minhyuk shakes his head. “I don’t even know if we’re friends. But he’s helped me feel less… wrong, being here. I never would have believed it possible before, but I have him to thank for most of that.” He swallows, tasting the words on the back of his tongue before he lets them out, waiting until he’s determined that there’s no bitterness to them. “Of all the people you could have chosen, I think he’s the best one.”

The smile disappears from Hoseok’s face, replaced by a pained furrow between his brows, a downturn of his lips. He thinks Minhyuk is cutting him loose, and once again Minhyuk shakes his head.

“All I’m trying to say is that you and him… It doesn’t hurt to see you with him anymore. It doesn’t hurt to see him with you. It feels okay.”

“He let me put the portrait of you by our bed,” Hoseok says, a tightness to his voice, emotion choking him up. “He listened when I told him stories about us. He never expected me to bury my memories of you, and so it started to feel okay, being with him.”

“He’s a good person. Kihyun… He’s a good person.”

“He is,” Hoseok agrees.

“I can see why you love him.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond, just holds Minhyuk’s gaze, his own uncertain, tentatively hopeful, afraid to hope.

Minhyuk swallows and says, with his heart suddenly pounding furiously, “And you still love me, too?”

Voice breaking, Hoseok says, “Yes.”

And Minhyuk can’t quite smile in response to that yet, but he can believe in Hoseok’s love again. It spreads through him, something familiar and never forgotten, a flower blooming for a second time.

“Okay,” he whispers, nodding. “Okay. I’m okay with that.” He glances at his empty bed, and the next words tumble out when he thinks of the loneliness that will steal in as soon as Hoseok leaves. “Will you stay the night?”

Both of Hoseok’s eyebrows fly up, disappear beneath his hair.

“Sorry,” Minhyuk says, looking down at his feet. “Never mind. Kihyun’s waiting. Just forget –”

“I’ll stay if you want me to.”

Minhyuk raises his eyes to Hoseok’s.

“I mean it,” Hoseok says quickly. “I want to, but only if you want me to.”

Minhyuk nods. “I want you to.”

Hoseok breathes out a smile, and suddenly Minhyuk can breathe again as well.

“Then I will.”

* * *

Minhyuk’s bed is nowhere near the size of Hoseok’s, but it’s still large. They climb into opposite ends, lay their heads on distant pillows. Of all the times Minhyuk has lain beside Hoseok, he has never had this much space to himself. They look at each other in the shifting light from the candle at Minhyuk’s bedside and the other atop the wardrobe.

“Will Kihyun worry?”

“He was there when I asked you on a walk. He’ll figure it out.”

“Do you think he’ll be pleased?”

“I do,” Hoseok says, starting to smile.

“That’s still strange to me. That he could be happy about this. But I know he would be, because he’s said basically as much to me.” Minhyuk shifts under the blankets, curling his knees up toward his body. It causes a loud rustle in the quiet. And his voice, too, for how soft it is, sounds loud. “He said something else to me that I’ve been thinking about. That you can feel the same emotion for more than one person. Anger, jealousy, hate, fear. So then why not love? Why not romantic love? I think I understand, in a way. It’s strange, but sometimes it almost makes sense.”

The candlelight dances in Hoseok’s eyes. He’s been infinitely patient. Even now, lying in the same bed as Hoseok at long last and not fighting an urge to bolt, Minhyuk knows that Hoseok will do no more. Hoseok would wait forever for him, even if Minhyuk never ended up going back to him. And he’d wait the whole time without expectation. He’s learned to let Minhyuk just be.

Minhyuk shifts a little bit closer. Not a lot; there’s still plenty of space between them, the bed cool where their heat doesn’t reach. But the gulf is slightly smaller now, which feels more right.

“I’m glad,” he whispers, “that I found your kingdom. That I didn’t give up, that each day I walked a little bit more, that I finally found you. It’s not quite the same, but this is almost home.”

“Can I kiss you?” Hoseok whispers.

Feeling guilty and sorry, but sure as he does it, Minhyuk shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” Hoseok says, accepting the rejection easily.

Minhyuk holds his hand out, in the space between their pillows. He’s a little embarrassed to say it, but does anyway. “You can hold my hand, though.”

Slowly, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to, Hoseok extends his own hand to take it, carefully curling his fingers around Minhyuk’s. Minhyuk’s heart trips over itself; all his nerve senses are heightened. His chest is tight. His fingers tingle. He squeezes, and Hoseok squeezes back.

Hoseok’s hand is warm, his grip sure. For now it’s all Minhyuk can take, and it’s more than enough. “Good night,” he whispers, and closes his eyes, and lets out a breath that seems to release mountains of tension with it. Hoseok’s responding whisper of _‘Good night’_ is like a breeze in his ears. Hoseok’s presence fills the room from wall to wall, bright and safe and right there.

Minhyuk feels when Hoseok starts drifting off, his grip slackening. With a smile to himself, Minhyuk lets sleep take him too.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, Hoseok is still there, and still asleep. Lips parted slightly, hair falling over his eyes, one hand curled gently just beneath his chin.

Minhyuk looks at him for a long time, relaxed in the morning stillness. It’s the very first morning in this castle that he has been able to wake up beside Hoseok and feel at ease, feel _content._ His heart is a soft thing in his chest, a subtle ache as he looks at the planes and slopes and gentle curves of Hoseok’s face. How easy it would be, to close the distance between them and press their lips together in the kiss that Hoseok wants.

Minhyuk doesn’t do this, but he does scoot closer and carefully, so carefully, rest their foreheads together. Lets his eyes fall shut, lets their noses touch. Let the ache in his chest throb throughout all of him, no longer subtle. How much easier it would be to kiss Hoseok now, just an upward tilt of his head, the tiny distance between their mouths closing. The softest brush of their lips is all it would take.

He takes a deep breath, then settles back on his own pillow.

“Hoseok.”

Hoseok doesn’t stir. Minhyuk’s voice was too quiet.

“Hoseok.”

Still nothing. Hoseok sleeps on, less space between them now than when Minhyuk fell asleep.

Minhyuk reaches and touches his fingers down on Hoseok’s cheek, setting his thumb down last and then smoothing it up toward Hoseok’s ear, tracing it over the shell and down to his earlobe. Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy, and flutter at Minhyuk’s touch, but still don’t open, so Minhyuk sets his entire palm down on Hoseok’s cheek.

“Hoseok.” There is depth to his voice this time, and Hoseok responds to it – eyebrows furrowing, movement behind his eyelids. There’s still time for Minhyuk to retract his hand, his heart starting to beat faster, a nervousness he can’t help feeling.

But he keeps his hand in place as Hoseok sighs, then squints open one eye, blinks blearily several times. Awareness not yet in his gaze, a frown on the corners of his mouth. And then he sees Minhyuk and his features soften out.

Hoseok smiles, half of it lost in the pillow. “Hi,” he breathes out.

How he can put so much love into one single, tiny, sleep-heavy word, Minhyuk doesn’t know. But it fills him up, tingles through him. They share body heat beneath the blankets, and Minhyuk wants to stay. Wants to sleep in with Hoseok, wants to relearn this peacefulness, wants to be close to him like this where the whole world feels gentle and slow and calm.

“Hi,” he says back.

The tingles in Minhyuk’s chest grow stronger, bolder, more wanting. He brushes the hair out of Hoseok’s eyes, then lets it fall back down, only to fan his fingers through it. He flattens his palm to Hoseok’s cheek again, and by now his heart is in his throat. Hoseok is warm and solid and real and so, so in love with him. Minhyuk can see it. It’s all there, loud and honest and true.

“You should sleep some more,” he says. There are still deep shadows of weariness beneath Hoseok’s eyes.

“I know.”

“Then sleep some more.”

“I can’t. I have things to do. I always have things to do.”

“You should at least be allowed to sleep in now and then. Take care of yourself.”

Hoseok’s smile is thankful, and apologetic. “I don’t have a choice. I have so few choices. You know that.”

Minhyuk frowns. “Are you sure you don’t hate being a prince?”

Hoseok exhales a quiet laugh. “I don’t hate all of it. If I wasn’t a prince of my own kingdom, I wouldn’t be waking up next to you like this.”

When he puts it like that, Minhyuk can only be grateful. He smooths a thumb over one of Hoseok’s eyebrows, then skims it down his nose. Then, the ache in his chest squeezing, he presses the pad to the center of Hoseok’s lips. He meets Hoseok’s eyes, swallows, and nods.

Hoseok’s eyebrows lift in understanding. He hesitates, but when Minhyuk doesn’t move his thumb away, he purses his lips just slightly, presses the softest kiss to his thumbprint.

Minhyuk draws his hand away, curls it against his chest. “Sleep some more,” he says. “For me.”

Hoseok’s heavy eyes hold his, and Minhyuk doesn’t look away. He doesn’t want to look away. Just wants to take Hoseok in, tired and for just this morning, all his.

Slowly, Hoseok’s eyes slip shut, and he turns his face slightly more into the pillow. “Okay,” he says. “For you.”

* * *

Kihyun grins at the both of them when they come into the garden together. The table is laid out for lunch, and he’s been waiting with his chin propped on his palm. His smile is radiant, and so very smug. Minhyuk’s cheeks warm up, and he can sense a similar giddy embarrassment in Hoseok beside him.

“I was wondering if I’d see either of you at all today,” Kihyun says, as Hoseok and Minhyuk take a seat across from him.

“I was convinced to sleep in,” Hoseok says, slipping a smile sideways at Minhyuk.

“Thank god,” Kihyun says. “You haven’t looked this alive in weeks.” He smirks at Minhyuk. “Like I said. You’re good leverage.”

Minhyuk busies himself with eating, his face still warm, butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. Hoseok says something that makes Kihyun laugh, and Minhyuk is drawn to the sound and the sight like a flower to sunlight. He can’t help smiling when Hoseok’s thigh presses against his beneath the table.

Their odd little threesome has come so far. And more miraculous still: he’s finally begun thinking of himself as a part of it.  

He puts down his silverware, and they look at him in question. He lets out a breath, heart starting to race – nervousness, anticipation, the stomach-dropping feeling that comes the split-second before making a decision that will change things entirely. He looks at Kihyun first, but then moves his gaze to Hoseok’s and holds it steady.

“I’ll move back into your room.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this, another update so soon?! I know, I'm shocked too. Enjoy!

It’s different actually moving back in. Actually moving in, period. It isn’t back. Hoseok and Kihyun have a new room, after all.

The entrance is very much the same – doorway opening into a long, narrow hallway, with a hanging curtain at the far end partitioning off the rest of the room. Minhyuk wonders if it’s a princely thing, to have a hallway in your bedroom. If it’s a Hoseok thing. If it’s maybe a Kihyun thing.

Hoseok’s enormous bed is one more bit of familiarity. It must be the same one; Minhyuk pities the servants who were tasked with moving it. He’d almost forgotten how big it actually was. An ocean of a bed. He makes himself stop staring at it, because it probably seems strange that he is.

The rest of the room is much different than the cloistering bedroom of before. There’s a wide window, for one, the thin curtains parted so the stars are visible in the night sky. It makes the whole place feel instantly more open, more breathable. Less like a den. There’s furniture, none of it too overly fanciful. Elegant, yes, but practical, in rich wooden hues reddened by the candlelight.

“I like this room better.”

Kihyun comes through the archway from the bathroom, drying his face on an embroidered cloth. “Isn’t it superior in every way?” he says, passing casually by, dropping the cloth in a basket of laundry. He’s dressed in dark sleep clothes, loose and simple, and goes right to the far side of the bed and gets in. He props himself against the headrest and takes the book from the bedside table, opens it in his lap. Like this night is no different from any of his others.

This night is very different from all the others. Minhyuk met Hoseok at his own bedroom not ten minutes ago, and walked with him to Hoseok’s room, because he didn’t know the way himself. All he brought was his satchel, which he holds in his arms now, uncertain where to put it. Uncertain where to put himself, too. He doesn’t remember if he and Hoseok spoke at all on the walk. He doesn’t think they did.

His heart is somewhere in the back of his throat, not lodged – he can breathe fine – but rather humming, or buzzing, or vibrating. A strange, nervous sensation unlike any he’s ever felt before, which is fitting for the circumstances, which are unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

Hoseok looks nervous too, in a giddy way. Half-smiling, half stunned that Minhyuk is in his room. “You can put your bag down,” he says, motioning toward the bedside table. Already there is Minhyuk’s portrait, turned at an angle toward the bed. So that it’s the first thing Hoseok sees when he wakes up, maybe. Or the second thing, after Kihyun.

Minhyuk sets his satchel down, trying not to stare at his portrait.

“You can get ready for bed in the bathroom,” Hoseok says tentatively.

It isn’t tension that fills the room, but it’s _something._ Awkwardness. Anticipation. Something that could be cut with a knife. A sword. A blunt, dull, tarnished butter knife.

It’s funny. It’s downright hilarious. It’s as though he and Hoseok are teenagers, new to each other’s company. As though they should still be daydreaming about things like what their first kiss will be like, as though they still jump each time their hands brush. And Kihyun’s just sitting in bed looking at his book, probably only pretending to read as he witnesses every excruciating second.

Minhyuk walks into the bathroom. He hasn’t brought any of the few pairs of clothes from his room, but he can tell that the folded pile on the counter is for him. It’s the same simple white fabric that he’s been wearing since he arrived. Though when he touches it, he feels the extra bit of luxury. A slightly softer weave, a slightly more elegant cut. He changes quickly, and when he returns, Hoseok is pulling a sleep shirt over his head, his pants already changed.

“Hi,” he says, breaking into a smile when he spots Minhyuk. His hair is mussed. He looks nervous and excited and happy and unsure what to say, and warmth blooms in Minhyuk’s stomach.

“This is all really strange.”

Hoseok chuckles, eyes casting down. He’s still smiling. “Yeah.”

Minhyuk looks at the bed, his stomach twisting, his cheeks warm. He knew this part was coming, but he’d avoided thinking about it.

“You can take the middle,” Hoseok says softly.

Minhyuk understands why – because if Minhyuk is in the middle, Hoseok won’t be sleeping next to Kihyun. He really is too good, too giving, too accommodating.

“Are you sure?” Minhyuk asks, glancing at Hoseok. It’s easier than saying _‘I don’t care if you’re beside Kihyun.’_

“I’m sure. Unless you’re uncomfortable there.”

Minhyuk shakes his head. “I’ll be uncomfortable anywhere.”

Hoseok’s face falls slightly.

“I just mean –”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok says, pulling the smile back. But now it’s tinged with melancholy, and Minhyuk just wants to cup his cheeks in his hands and apologize. “I understand.”

“I’ll take the middle,” Minhyuk says. The mattress shifts and creaks a bit as he climbs on, as he pulls back the covers and slips beneath, leaving ample space between himself and Kihyun. Kihyun, whose head is still bent over his book, the pages of which haven’t turned since Minhyuk came out of the bathroom. Does _he_ mind that Minhyuk is separating the two of them?

Minhyuk doesn’t want to worry about it, so he lies down, his back to Kihyun. The blankets are cool, but already starting to warm from his body heat. Hoseok gets in beside him, leaving less space than on Minhyuk’s other side, but there’s still plenty.

Their eyes meet, and Minhyuk wills himself to relax. His muscles loosen a bit, which is something. He offers Hoseok a small smile, the best he can manage, and is relieved to feel that, small as it is, it’s at least true.

“Hi,” Hoseok says, responding with a gentle smile of his own, the candlelight caressing his face. And still he can put so much love into one tiny word. To think that it was just this morning that they woke together in Minhyuk’s bed. To think that only days ago he was called the prince’s whore, and here he is, in Hoseok’s bed, knowing that he’s anything but.

“Hi,” he whispers.

Hoseok’s smile softens impossibly more. “I’m glad you’re here.”

His voice is gritty and tired. Minhyuk has heard that exact tone countless times before, in the hunting cabin, Hoseok talking to him until he fell asleep in the afternoon sun coming through the window.

His heart squeezes painfully. He remembers, in one mass of sensory recollection, squeezing onto that ledge together and snuggling closer than close, soft kisses and sleepy giggles, Hoseok’s arm slung over his waist. It doesn’t have to be just memories anymore.

This is real. Hoseok watching him with sleepy fondness. A shared bed. Space for himself in Hoseok’s heart. After a year and a half of searching, it’s real again. After months of thinking he couldn’t possibly still have a place in Hoseok’s life, it’s almost frightening to understand how much of Hoseok’s heart is actually his.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m glad I’m here too.”

Hoseok reaches, and pauses, and when Minhyuk doesn’t make any indication that he should stop, he lays a hand on Minhyuk’s cheek. Minhyuk’s heart lurches. His eyes prickle and his throat is hot, but he manages to keep the emotion at bay. Hoseok’s thumb brushes against his cheek before his hand withdraws. Minhyuk wishes it hadn’t – wishes it still laid heavy on his face, his entire body yearning for the sweetness of Hoseok’s physicality.

“I love you,” Hoseok whispers.

Minhyuk swallows again, thinks that if he looks into Hoseok’s eyes a moment longer he really will cry. Is he happy? Is he sad? The emotion squeezing his ribcage is too profound to understand.

So he acts on what he does understand. That ache for closeness. He ducks his head so he doesn’t have to see what reaction will show on Hoseok’s expression, and shifts closer, clumsily knocking their knees together, clumsily pressing his forehead to Hoseok’s chest.

He holds his breath, frozen, until a hand settles, so careful, on his waist. It doesn’t make him want to flee. At its touch, his entire body releases its tension. He breathes in Hoseok, and breathes out heartache.

And, eventually, he falls asleep, for the first time in nearly two years, in Hoseok’s arms.

* * *

He wakes up to a sensation that, at one point, he was certain he’d never feel again. He recognizes it instantly, with a glow of affection so strong in his chest it takes him several seconds to be able to breathe through it. He’s back in the hunting cabin, Hoseok’s fingers carding slowly through his hair, brushing it gently off of his forehead before dragging slowly down to the back of his neck.

Minhyuk smiles, turning his face into the pillow, stretching his legs and then curling them back up again. The fingers stop to let him adjust, and then start again once he’s stilled. He feels so happy it almost falls all the way back around into sadness, but he knows it isn’t. It’s a joy so strong that his body has to learn to readjust to it.

He shifts again and opens his eyes, steeling himself for what he might see, for the very real possibility that it will hurt too much…

And Hoseok smiles at him, eyes heavy with barely-shed sleep, the softest puff of laughter coming out of his nose, a sound so radiant for having next to no volume to it. His hand settles on Minhyuk’s neck, palm soft and warm. Early morning presses in on the window. All around, and right in front of him in the flecks of gold in Hoseok’s eyes, is the quiet assurance that he’s loved, the he’s wanted, that the smile on Hoseok’s face is because of him.

“Hi,” they say, at the exact same time.

Hoseok’s eyes fall shut in a smile. He brushes his thumb along Minhyuk’s jawline, and Minhyuk’s throat closes.

“I love you, too.”

Hoseok’s eyes snap open at the whisper, wide and round for a moment, then two, then three. And then his expression crumbles, teeth grit, eyes watering, nose flaring as he forces back a sob.

Minhyuk brushes the hair out of his eyes and whispers it again. “I love you.” And then, because he’s sure now: “You can kiss me.”

Hoseok sucks in a shaky breath. He blinks his eyes clear, and looks deep into Minhyuk’s. He doesn’t need to ask if Minhyuk is certain. Doesn’t need to double check that Minhyuk truly wants it. All the old understanding between them has returned. All the old trust. He clings to Minhyuk’s hand like it’s a lifeline, and Minhyuk squeezes just as tightly.

Now that he has Hoseok back, that he’s let Hoseok have him back, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to let go of him anytime soon. He just wants, and wants, and wants.

Hoseok leans in and presses their lips together, his own wet with tears, Minhyuk’s slightly parted. Minhyuk breathes in the kiss, a simple thing that leaves his entire body light.

Hoseok pulls him flush against his body, cradles Minhyuk’s head against his chest and tries to stifle his tears into Minhyuk’s hair. With the beat of Hoseok’s heart against his cheek, Minhyuk feels the pit of loneliness within him beginning to fill.

When Hoseok finally calms, he pulls back enough to meet Minhyuk’s eyes, his own red and puffy. “I love you so much.”

Minhyuk touches his cheek, gently wipes some tears from beneath his eyes. He wants to say it back, but he’s smiling too wide, happiness is too large in his chest, for him to track down his voice.

“Can I kiss you again?” Hoseok asks, half-whisper and half a tearful blubber.

The laugh bursts out of Minhyuk, quiet but brimming with all the love inside of him, all the warmth and joy that floods over him in that instant. “Yes,” he says, and Hoseok does.

Kissing Hoseok, he thinks in a haze of delight, is like breathing. The more he does it, the more alive he feels. Stronger. More certain. Their noses bump clumsily, and their foreheads too, and even their chins, but the clumsy meeting of their mouths feels as coordinated as anything they’ve done in the hunting cabin, in the reeds, in their many secret places.

The rustle of the reeds is the rustle of the blankets. The heat of the sun is their body heat, warming up the blankets. The creak of the bed is… entirely new.

Hoseok presses closer, slipping his tongue past the part in Minhyuk’s lips, and Minhyuk meets it with his own. Hoseok’s breath rushes into his mouth, and his own catches. Hoseok shifts to lean over him, finally finding a position where he can kiss Minhyuk fully, teeth grazing his lower lip for a teasing moment before catching Minhyuk’s sigh in another deep kiss.

Minhyuk runs his hands into Hoseok’s hair, holding him close, bringing him down on top of him, adding to the heat already surging through him. When Hoseok draws back for a breath, the gasp of it makes Minhyuk’s fingertips tingle. He drapes his arms all the way over the back of Hoseok’s neck, luxuriates in the heat of their mouths together, the shift of the bedsheets around them and the shift of Hoseok against him.

There’s a rustle from Minhyuk’s other side, and the two of them startle and break apart. Noses still touching, they stare wide-eyed at each other, faces and lips pink.

Another rustle. “Well, isn’t this a heartwarming scene?” comes Kihyun’s sleepy voice, tinted richly with amusement.

* * *

It’s almost like things have gone back to normal – between him and Hoseok, and just inside of himself. Like a giant fissure has been mended.

Hoseok kisses him everywhere – the bedroom (but when they’re alone, because Minhyuk isn’t used to other people watching), the gardens, behind the stables. Sometimes he catches Minhyuk in the halls and pulls him into a shadowy alcove and kisses him senseless, and once Minhyuk’s brain starts working again he snorts and says something like, “Are princes allowed to do this?”

Hoseok grins against his lips, his fingers splayed over Minhyuk’s hips, pressing him gently against the wall. “I’m a prince. I’m allowed to do whatever I want.”

And then he kisses Minhyuk again, slow and languid, and it’s like the world narrows until it’s just them. Hoseok takes Minhyuk’s face in his hands, slows the kiss down until it’s just a press of mouths, and then he just rests their foreheads together.

“I love you so much,” he says.

Minhyuk covers Hoseok’s hands with his own, his smile free, his heart boundless. “I love you too.”

Sharing a bed with both of them is still different. He doesn’t have with Kihyun what he has with Hoseok, but he has something. The routine of it helps – Kihyun always reads, and always quietly. So quietly that Minhyuk falls asleep before Kihyun settles down. By the second week, the quiet _whsk_ of pages turning is a comfort. Each one whispers him further into sleep.

Sometimes Hoseok will read an important scroll before setting it aside, and sometimes he’ll just drop heavily into bed, letting out a breath that comes from deep within him, like from the bottom of a well. On those nights, Minhyuk knows that he’s had a heavy day. He doesn’t always nestle into Hoseok’s side, but he does always face Hoseok, and at least lets Hoseok brush a sleepy kiss between his eyebrows as a final good night.

So he gets used to sleeping between them, but it takes time. Hoseok is always on the outside, and Minhyuk is always in the middle. Kihyun always leaves plenty of distance. They never make a show of it, accommodating him without mention. If it bothers either of them, they do an exceptional job of hiding it, but Minhyuk has the feeling that neither of them are bothered at all.

He gets used to being in the same room as the both of them, also – used to Hoseok trying to decide which of his ridiculous fancy outfits to wear the following day, used to Kihyun fussing about Hoseok folding his clothes properly, and Hoseok yawning again and again as he tries to slog through just one more scroll before bed, just one more. A peace settles over their nighttime scene, and mornings feel fresh and new every day.

Hoseok is usually gone by the time Minhyuk wakes. Whether or not Kihyun is as well is a toss-up. Sometimes he’s still asleep, sometimes he’s getting ready to leave, moving about the room quietly, and sometimes he’s gone and the bed is Minhyuk’s own. On these mornings, and if he doesn’t have to head down to the horses, he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, daylight coming through the window, the hush almost as deep as the one that would steal into the sun-lit room of Hoseok’s hunting cabin.

Sometimes he wakes up before either of them, and he enjoys just lying between them, listening to their soft breathing.

He likes the room more than he expected to, so it isn’t long before falling asleep in the middle of the huge bed is part of his routine. Always closer to Hoseok, Kihyun always far away. The distances feel right. He likes having one of them on each side of him, likes going to bed and not feeling lonely.

The three of them still have meals together, but Hoseok makes sure to spend plenty of time with Minhyuk alone. Walking around the grounds, taking his hand and tangling their fingers together, whispering in his ear and nudging him in the side.

He likes to say things that’ll make Minhyuk snort under his breath, and when he sees this, he leans in and kisses Minhyuk’s cheek loudly, making Minhyuk smile for real and roll his eyes. And every time Hoseok does this, Minhyuk turns and captures Hoseok’s lips with his own. He’s finally getting used to initiating affection again. The more he gets, the more he craves, and the more he remembers how good it felt being touched, hugged, held.

He feels young and brimming with happiness. He feels like he did at the end of his teenage years, head over heels in a secret tryst, except it isn’t a tryst at all this time. Or is it? The guests must still whisper, but his head is lost in a cloud of happiness and he’s barely paid attention to their stares.

Kihyun comments on it during one of their walks. “You seem happier,” he says, smiling slightly, a hint of question in the way his eyebrows draw down over his eyes.

This morning, when Minhyuk woke up, he’d been facing Kihyun. Kihyun, whose face had been smooth and easy and peaceful. Whose lips were parted just slightly, whose eyelashes fluttered when Minhyuk shifted. But he slept on, and Minhyuk’s heart swelled in his chest.

Minhyuk smiles down at his feet now, then decides there’s no reason to hide it, and smiles at Kihyun instead.

“Yeah, I am.”

Kihyun smiles back fully, freckle lifting at the corner of his mouth. Minhyuk stares at it, and wonders when thinking of kissing Kihyun will produce the same thrill in his stomach as kissing Hoseok does.

* * *

Sometimes the heaviness returns, rolling in unwelcome like fog, intangible and yet filling him up slowly, unstoppably. There are times it isn’t so severe – a tiredness that chases him throughout the day, sore limbs and stiff joints even though he slept well and didn’t do anything strenuous the day before. And then there are the days where it’s hard to move, hard to think straight, hard to think at all.

Hoseok and Kihyun are good enough at picking up on these moods, and they tone themselves down for him on these days. Kihyun’s wit is gentler. Hoseok is content to talk less, move around less.

On one of these heavy mornings, Minhyuk rolls out of bed and makes it into the bathroom before he realizes that his feet dragged across the floor the entire way, that just walking tires him out. It’s a shame, because it’s a rare morning that Hoseok gets to sleep in – he’s still in bed breathing deep and even, though Kihyun is out with his choir one town over. Minhyuk sighs, and then sighs again.

When they’d gone to bed last night, Hoseok’s lips had lingered on his forehead for longer than usual. When Hoseok had first started doing it, Minhyuk didn’t understand why he kissed him there. It was after washing his face one morning and meeting his own eyes in Hoseok’s bathroom mirror (he’d grown used to avoiding his reflection in his own room) that he noticed the scar trailing down between his eyebrows. Touching it, he realized that this was what Hoseok was always kissing.

He stares at the scar now, leaning over the counter toward his reflection. A lighter mark on his tanned skin, but not as light as his snowy hair, falling into his eyes. A scar that holds a whole world in it – all the memories of his village, and the smoke that choked the life out of it.

A pad of footsteps, and Hoseok comes through the archway, rubbing the heel of his palm into one of his eyes.

“Morning,” he says, voice raw with sleep. He lets out a blustery breath and steps up behind Minhyuk, taking him in his arms in one easy motion, bare chest to his clothed back, nose nuzzling against the side of his neck.

Minhyuk melts into the embrace with another sigh, eyes sliding shut, Hoseok’s warmth stirring up the ache in his chest that is part love, part something like longing.

“I thought you didn’t have to go down to the horses today?” Hoseok mutters, still nosing against Minhyuk’s neck.

Minhyuk opens his eyes, sees that Hoseok’s are closed. “I don’t.”

Hoseok cracks his eyes open at that, _hearing_ it in Minhyuk’s voice. He meets Minhyuk’s gaze in the mirror, and his softens in understanding. His arms go a little tighter. “Want me to have breakfast brought up here?”

“Don’t really want to eat yet.” Minhyuk places his hands on Hoseok’s arms, runs his fingers over the veins, the knobs of his wrists and then his knuckles, down to his fingertips and back up, tracing the subtle slopes of his muscles. Hoseok has beautiful arms, beautiful hands – smaller than Minhyuk’s, and much, much softer. Arms and hands that only know gentleness, and when Minhyuk traces them like this, the ache in his chest turns gentler too.

Hoseok lets him. Would probably let him do it for hours, forever.

“Thank you,” Minhyuk says eventually, folding his arms over Hoseok’s, “for still loving me.” He thinks he should say more, should clarify, but it’s a tired day and they’ve been quiet for a long time, and he doesn’t feel like breaking any further into it.

“Loving you,” Hoseok says softly, pausing to kiss the shell of Minhyuk’s ear, “is one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.”

Minhyuk can’t help laughing, mostly breath. “I know I don’t make it easy for you.”

“You don’t make it anything. You’re just you, and I love you.” Hoseok brushes his lips against Minhyuk’s neck. “You’re the sun in my sky. You’re the joy in my life.”

Minhyuk lifts a corner of his mouth. “I don’t feel like either of those things right now. Sunny. Joyful.”

“The sun is still there, even when it’s behind the clouds.”

Minhyuk turns around in Hoseok’s arms – Hoseok loosens his hold to let him.

“Will you say that again?”

Smiling, fingers lacing at the small of Minhyuk’s back, Hoseok says, “The sun is still there, even when it’s behind the clouds.”

“Huh…” Minhyuk ponders over the words, even as he brings his lips to Hoseok’s, even as they kiss, his arms going around Hoseok’s neck, their mouths moving warm and slow together. “I like that,” he decides, pausing the kiss to say it. And then he kisses Hoseok again. “I love you,” he says, tired and heavy but still warm deep inside.

Hoseok kisses his forehead. “I love you, too. So much.” Kisses the tip of his nose. “So much.” Kisses his mouth, slow and steady,

Minhyuk knows, in his heart, in his bones, in his soul, that it’s true.

* * *

When Minhyuk wakes suddenly in the dead of night, he isn’t sure if the cough he hears as he’s halfway between waking and dreaming is his own, or something out of his dream, or…

Again, he hears it. A short, sharp, choked off sound, like a gasp… of fright?

His head swims, disoriented, still unsure if it’s ready to be awake. The backs of his eyelids are dark. There’s a rustle beside him, startling his eyes open. In a flicker of candlelight from the bedside table, Hoseok’s eyes stare back into his. They’re wide open and frozen, like he’s found himself cornered.

He has a hand pressed over his mouth. His fingers tremble. He blinks, and the light in his eyes shifts, caught in tears.

“Hoseok –” Minhyuk starts to say, his voice a hoarse whisper, but Hoseok lets out another shuddering gasp and jerks away, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. He grabs his robe hanging on the bedpost and pulls it on, looking anywhere but at Minhyuk, who has sat up, dread mingling with the confusion hanging over him.

Hoseok makes so little noise that the room is practically silent, but there’s loudness in the look of him, in his distress. It knocks any lingering bits of sleep right out of Minhyuk’s head.

Hoseok keeps a hand pressed over his mouth as he pushes through the hanging curtain. Minhyuk slides out of bed and rushes after him, throwing a look at Kihyun and finding him still asleep.

Hoseok doesn’t run down the corridor, but his pace is hurried, his robe billowing open behind him.

_“Hoseok!”_ Minhyuk hisses, trying to be quiet and heard at the same time. His heart pounds in his throat, and his bare feet pound against the cold stone floor. The windows flash by, reflecting torchlight instead of showing the night sky beyond.

He catches Hoseok’s hand, and expects Hoseok to pull out of his grip. Instead, Hoseok grips tighter and pulls him along. Minhyuk’s stomach falls away as he misses a step, but he regains his footing and lets Hoseok steer him through the castle. It’s clear that Hoseok has a route planned, has made this midnight flight before.

Minhyuk doesn’t recognize the door Hoseok pulls him through, at the very end of a long hallway like all the other long hallways. A wooden door like every other wooden door. They’re inside, and Hoseok is closing it, and then falling back against it. He doesn’t slide all the way to the floor, just sinks slightly with his spine bowed against the wooden surface.

He releases Minhyuk’s hand to press it over the other still sealed over his mouth. Choked off gasps come through; two tear tracks glisten over his cheeks and down his jaw to his chin. In the dark of the room, the moonlight is able to punch through the windows. They illuminate the whites of his eyes, wide and bright.

“Hoseok, _what?_ What in the world is going on?” Minhyuk’s voice rises and goes tight. He’s never seen Hoseok like this, and it terrifies him to see him so terrified.

A sob strangles its way out of Hoseok’s throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Minhyuk touches his hand, but doesn’t try to pry either away.

“Please,” he tries, gentler. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“The nightmare,” Hoseok says, words thin, squeaking out between his fingers. “I had it again.”

Minhyuk takes a step closer. He’s afraid to touch Hoseok too much, afraid he’ll startle and run off again. “What nightmare?”

Hoseok’s eyes open, so round, to fix on his. Minhyuk almost stumbles back under the force of his gaze, but he squares his shoulders and holds his ground. He feels like he’s fighting – like they’re _both_ fighting – against whatever has affected Hoseok so much. Against whatever demons lurk in his nightmare, chasing him out into wakefulness.

“Tell me,” Minhyuk whispers, finally curling his fingers under the palm of Hoseok’s top hand and lifting. Hoseok offers no resistance – once Minhyuk has brought his hand away from his face, he lets it fall to his side. So Minhyuk takes away the second as well, sets it at Hoseok’s other side. Then he stands before Hoseok, close enough to touch but not touching, and gives him a patient but prodding look.

Hoseok lowers his head. It makes him look even smaller, with his back already bent, with his nightmare resting heavy on his shoulders. He speaks at their feet, words weak, filled with breath and not much more.

“I’m at your village, right after it burned.”

Minhyuk’s heart lurches, pounding hard in his chest, thumping the breath right out of him.

“And I’m looking for you,” Hoseok continues, but his voice chokes out. All he can get out now is air, rasping through his throat. Teardrops drip off of his nose. “I find you in the rubble. Sometimes you’re alive, but barely. You’re so burnt. You – you ask me for help –”

He stifles a sob, pressing his fist to his mouth. He bites his knuckles hard, rasps in a breath. Minhyuk takes his hand away from his mouth, sees the teeth marks curved deep into his fingers. He soothes his thumb over them, but his actions feel dreamlike and disconnected from himself.

He’s in the thick of the fire, in the choking blackness of the smoke, in the din of screams, the scorched smell that burns its way up his nose, acrid and searing hot. Hoseok’s hand is his mother’s, sweaty and slipping out of his grasp. People moaning and crying and shouting and _pleading_ everywhere, unseen. The creaking and crackling of fragile wooden houses collapsing, the caress of embers and their sting when they find his cheeks, his arms, his empty hands.

“Sometimes, you’re _melting_.”

Hoseok’s voice brings him back partway. There is Hoseok curled into himself against the door in the dark, but this vision swims into another one, one filled with a more sinister darkness broken by patches of flames and shimmering heat. He reaches for the first vision, forces himself to breathe and find the trail of Hoseok’s voice. Follows it back to the castle and the present.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Hoseok blubbers, “but you’re _melting_ , and you’re asking for help because it’s so hot but I can’t touch you because you keep _melting_ and it’s _horrible._ ”

He ducks his face into his hands and sobs. Minhyuk takes his wrists, guides one hand to his cheek, the other to the side of his neck. Hoseok’s palms are wet but warm, and Minhyuk presses them gently against his skin.

“I’m not melting, though, am I?” he asks, hoarse. His own cheeks are damp with tears.

Hoseok looks at him with blurry eyes. Teardrops coat his lashes, and fall heavily when he blinks. “No,” he says, voice thick with grief.

“No,” Minhyuk agrees. His voice drops to almost a whisper. “I’m right here, with you. I’m here with you, Hoseok.” Hoseok coughs out another sob and steps closer, dropping his arms to go around Minhyuk’s waist, ducking his face into the side of Minhyuk’s neck.

The relief that flows through Minhyuk is almost painful. He holds Hoseok, lips in his hair, whispering out quiet _Shhh_ s and _It’s okay_ s, and _I’m here_ s. They’re as much for Hoseok as for himself. His burning village recedes slowly back into memory. When he breathes, he smells the soap in Hoseok’s hair.

“Does Kihyun know about your nightmares?” he asks, nuzzling it into Hoseok’s hair once Hoseok has calmed. Hoseok exhales wetly, choppily, against his neck. His voice is wrecked.

“He does, but I’m usually quiet enough that I don’t wake him.”

“Do you always leave?”

Hoseok nods.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to drag him into the nightmare. I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

_Sweet, sweet Hoseok,_ Minhyuk thinks, running a hand up and down between Hoseok’s shoulder blades. “I think he would want to drag you out of it. So would I.”

Hoseok doesn’t answer that, just lets Minhyuk soothe him. It seems to work – Hoseok relaxes in his arms, and for a few minutes, the tentative peace begins to pull Minhyuk’s eyelids closed. But Hoseok’s shoulders start shaking anew.

“I don’t know,” Hoseok rasps out, voice breaking. His throat sounds raw, and he clears it, swallows thickly. Still, his voice is more air than sound. “Sometimes I don’t know how you don’t hate me.”

Minhyuk straightens, shocked. He takes Hoseok by the shoulders. “Hoseok. What –”

“My father killed your entire village, your _family_.” Hoseok grimaces. “My family is the reason yours has suffered. My family condemned yours, and the entire kingdom connected to yours. And everybody was innocent. So many hundreds, thousands, of innocent people whose fates were decided simply because of the kingdom they lived in, and my family’s horrible pride.”

Fresh tears begin leaking down his face. Minhyuk cups his cheeks, trying to think of something to say but feeling helpless in the face of Hoseok’s quiet grief. So Hoseok continues on, eyes shining, mouth trembling.

“Everything my family is, is cruel. Destructive. Prejudiced. _Evil._ And you’ve suffered, _so much,_ because of it. How can you not hate me simply for who I am?”

“Hoseok.” Minhyuk’s voice breaks. How will he ever get Hoseok to understand? “I _love_ you, simply for who you are. I tried to hate you and I couldn’t. You’re not your father, or your family.”

“But what if,” Hoseok whispers, covering Minhyuk’s hands with his own, curling his fingers around Minhyuk’s and squeezing hard, just as hard as he squeezes his eyes shut. “What if your village died because my father _knew?_ The entire time we were together, I knew I shouldn’t allow myself to be with you.” He chokes out a sob, turning his face into one of Minhyuk’s hands. Tears and snot wet Minhyuk’s palm. “I knew how much danger I was putting you in. I knew I was being reckless, but I didn’t stop. I told myself we would be okay. Nobody would find out. I was stealthy enough, my guards would never know, word would never reach my father. But I was stupid. I was stupid to think all of that.”

“But you don’t know if anyone found out. We were careful.”

Hoseok turns his face out of Minhyuk’s hand. His eyes, Minhyuk knows, would be red in the daylight. His lashes clump together. “I brought the painter to our cabin. That could have been the end of everything. Maybe it was.”

“You trusted him.”

“I can be fooled! And trustworthy people can be questioned! Intimidated! If _I’m_ the reason your people all died –” A weak, thin sob breaks out of him. He finishes with his eyes shut. “I’d never forgive myself. Already, I never will. But if it was because of _me_ –”

“Shhhhhhh.” Minhyuk rests his forehead against Hoseok’s. “You’re letting your mind run wild. Dark thoughts feed themselves in the dark of night like this. I know. So please...” He kisses Hoseok’s forehead, then each eyelid. “Please,” he whispers again, “don’t think of these things right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok says. But he’s apologizing for the extermination of Minhyuk’s village. Apologizing on his father’s behalf. Apologizing for the cruel heart he doesn’t have.

Apologizing, maybe, for loving Minhyuk.

“I don’t accept your apology,” Minhyuk says. He wipes the pad of his thumbs across Hoseok’s cheeks, through the tear tracks. Then he reaches into the breast pocket of Hoseok’s robe and pulls out a clean, embroidered handkerchief. “Blow your nose.”

Hoseok does, and Minhyuk tosses the soiled thing aside. Then he takes Hoseok’s hand, and lowers himself down onto the floor, back against the wall. “Sit,” he says, giving Hoseok’s hand a tug.

Hoseok does, allowing Minhyuk to steer his body once he’s down, tip him sideways and guide his head onto his lap.

“Rest,” Minhyuk says. He strokes Hoseok’s hair. Listens to the whistle of Hoseok’s breath. Traces the shell of Hoseok’s ear with a fingertip. His entire being aches with love and sorrow and helplessness.

“I’m scared that I only know how to hurt you,” Hoseok says, his voice weak and inflectionless with exhaustion. “All I want is for you to know happiness, and yet all I provide you is pain.”

“It’s okay to think that now,” Minhyuk says, smoothing Hoseok’s hair, “but once it’s morning, I don’t want you to ever say that again. I don’t want you to think it.”

Hoseok is silent after that. His head is heavy on Minhyuk’s thigh, his hair is soft between Minhyuk’s fingers. Slowly, his breathing evens out, and Minhyuk’s does in time with it.

He finally recognizes where they are. The music room looks so different – so much larger and bleaker – in the night. The tables that he’s used to seeing in golden light look square and severe in the moonlight, hunkering over shadows.

Minhyuk tips his own head back against the stone wall, and slowly, in fits and starts, sleep overtakes him.

* * *

They wake late. Something jostles Minhyuk’s shoulder, and as consciousness comes to him, he hears the crackle of Hoseok’s voice.

“Minhyuk, wake up.”

He cracks open his eyes, and bright light makes him squeeze them shut again. He groans, becoming aware of the hard surface against his shoulders, the soreness of his backside, the twinge in his spine. He squints his eyes open again, and this time his vision swims into focus.

Hoseok kneels in front of him, crust in the corners of his eyes, hair flat on one side, face dry at the cheeks and oily in the center.

The empty music room, tables and chairs in straight rows all the way to the door. Sunlight pours through the windows, coming in at a high slant. Late morning.

“What time is it?” he asks, voice guttering deep in his throat.

“Late,” Hoseok says. “Past breakfast.” His hand is on Minhyuk’s shoulder. He brushes his thumb against the exposed swoop of Minhyuk’s neck.

Hoseok’s face is close. There’s an intensity in his gaze, tempered by his gentleness, his affection, his softness that is always at the forefront of the way he looks at Minhyuk.

“Every time I wake up and you’re here in front of me, I wonder if I’m dreaming.”

Minhyuk smiles, a tired laugh huffing out of him. He stretches his arms over his head, back arching off the wall, and then he laces his fingers behind Hoseok’s neck. “You’re not,” he says. “Although, I wonder the same thing.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Guilt flashes across Hoseok’s face. He motions with his chin toward the wall behind Minhyuk. “You must have been uncomfortable.”

“My back is stiff and my neck hurts like hell,” Minhyuk says honestly. “But the floor couldn’t have been much more comfortable.”

He teases his fingers into the soft, slightly tangled hair at Hoseok’s nape. _Are you okay?_ he wants to ask, but he doesn’t want to call last night back. It lingers in the heavy shadows beneath Hoseok’s eyes, the frown lines around his mouth.

They walk back to Hoseok’s room hand in hand, keeping to the quieter hallways. The bed is empty, but made up, when they arrive. The bathroom is empty, too – Kihyun is out. But Minhyuk brings Hoseok to the bed, removes his robe, has him sit. He takes a simple, soft shirt out of a drawer and brings it over to Hoseok, puts it over his head and helps him pull his arms through the sleeves.

He knows Hoseok understands him without him having to say it – Hoseok is going to sleep some more, needs more rest before he turns into a prince for the day.

To make sure of it, Minhyuk excuses himself briefly to head into the hall. Hoseok’s guards stand at the end of it, as usual. Their gazes are distant; in fact, they gaze right over Minhyuk’s head.

Minhyuk clears his throat, self-concious. “Hoseok – the prince – won’t be seeing guests this morning. He’s unwell and has asked to rest.”

Neither reacts immediately. Minhyuk wonders if they’re going to pretend not to have heard him. Do they think him scum, like some of the castle visitors do?

Finally, the taller, thinner one looks down at him, nothing familiar or friendly in his gaze though he has to know who Minhyuk is by now. He nods, once. Minhyuk doesn’t wait for any more, just turns on his heel and goes back to Hoseok.

“I shouldn’t,” Hoseok says when Minhyuk returns. He looks so small once again, head bowed over his lap.

“But you will,” Minhyuk says, sitting beside Hoseok and pulling his satchel from the bedside table into his lap, “because I have something to show you.”

Hoseok looks at the satchel, curiosity lifting his eyebrows. The small thing is practically flat. He’s surely wondering what inside could be worth showing that he hasn’t seen already – the tiny sketchbook that Minhyuk hasn’t touched in months, the little dog figurine, the scrap of Minhyuk’s shirt that Minhyuk isn’t even sure Hoseok ever noticed in his old room.

Minhyuk reaches into the inner pouch, finding cool metal, finding a chain that slips through his fingers like sand. He pulls it out and shows it to Hoseok, palm up.

Hoseok pulls in a breath, eyes widening. “You have it,” he whispers. He reaches for it, brushes a fingertip against the metal, the curlicues carved into the outside of it. “I thought…”

“I’d never get rid of it. And I’d _never_ let anyone take it.”

Hoseok glances up at the tone in Minhyuk’s voice.

Another memory swims before Minhyuk’s eyes. He doesn’t want to tell the story, not really. There is nothing happy in it, and Hoseok doesn’t need more grief right now. But he’s going to tell it anyway, because it’s time.

He closes his hand around the ring, and closes his other around one of Hoseok’s, and begins.

* * *

He was hungry.

He was hungry and tired, both state so severe he should have been thinking of them in terms of starvation and exhaustion, but they had gotten to a point that they’d numbed his body into feeling only basic sensations. Hunger. Fatigue. Discomfort all over. There was a pebble in his shoe but he had no energy to spare for it.

He was in a town, some seedy village barely surviving on the dried out crops he’d passed between on his way in. People all dressed in shades of beige and gray, clothing several years old, not enough fabric left in the village to patch up the most recent holes. They looked at him from doorways, from nearly-empty market stalls, with small eyes that held no welcome in them.

They all knew he was passing through and would get nothing from them, which is how he knew this too.

Still, he had to try. He had a few coins in his pocket, the last few he’d earned in the south where the air smelled like the sea and there was plenty of dried bread to eat.

The sea. Water. His mouth was parched, his lips lined and cracked with dehydration. At the center of town was a spigot, as he knew there would be. He collapses to his knees in front of it, but as he reached for the lever, a hand caught his wrist.

The fingers were all bone covered by leathered skin, but the grip was tight. Minhyuk looked up into a leering face, the smile full of toothless holes.

_Water ain’t free ‘round these parts,_ said the man.

Minhyuk didn’t even ask. Just dug in his pocket for his last few coins, exactly three of them, small and dented and dull. He dropped them into the man’s open palm. The grip on his wrist tightened for a second, a frown twisting over the man’s lips, but he let go with a distasteful sound.

_Bah! Just take a sip and leave. We ain’t lookin’ to cater to guests._

Minhyuk pulled the lever, and ducked to drink straight from the flow of water that came out. It ran down his face, his neck. It tasted cold and fresh, from deep underground. He drank until his stomach hurt, and he heard a warning tut beside him.

He stood, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. And then, because he saw no friendliness in all the dark eyes narrowed at him, he began making his way back to the town gates. The only sounds were the scuff of his shoes against the dirt grit of the ground.

He didn’t see it coming.

He took a step, and his eyesight went black. Pain tore through the back of his head. His face was in the dirt – grit was in his mouth, his eyes. His vision swam, hazy and dark. He was on the ground. It was loud. Cries of shock, and others of cheer, swum murkily through his senses.

A force at his throat, someone choking him! He struggled, half-blind, to his knees, shoving someone aside. But they returned, choking him – no, it was the chain around his neck choking him. Being tugged at, pulling his head back.

_Give it here,_ someone panted close by. A woman’s voice, creaky with age.

He swung out an arm, colliding with a body. An _oomph!_ of impact, and he could breathe. His head throbbed, like a knife cutting straight through the back of his skull. His vision darkened for a breath, and then lurched back into partial focus.

A heavy iron pot lay capsized on the ground. Beside it, a little old woman pushing herself to her feet. Her gaze was fixated on him. No, on the necklace around his throat, the ring dangling outside of his shirt.

Minhyuk staggered to standing, vision sliding sideways, another throb cutting through him. He slurred out a question, hand feeling frantically at the back of his head. It felt whole, at least.

But the villagers were closing in, eyes full of greed, hands reaching, fingers bent and poised to take. They were making sounds, none of them human. Off-balance, tilting and stumbling, Minhyuk somehow managed to scramble through, tearing his arms from their grasps, thrashing when their fingers tightened in his shirt. He kept one fist curled tight around the ring, used his elbows when he had to, screamed in a desperate search for more strength.

Somehow he got free, of them and their village. He didn’t look back once he passed through the crumbling gates to see if he was being followed. He just ran, and ran, and ran.

That evening, he stumbled into a barn and collapsed onto a mound hay. He hadn’t let go of the ring that whole time. His fingers throbbed when he unbent them. His head still throbbed, but dully. He barely felt alive.

That evening, he unclasped the chain from around his neck with shaking fingers. As soon as the tiny weight of it was gone, as soon as he no longer felt the skin-warmed ring against his sternum, he felt a hundred times more lost than he already did.

But it was nothing compared to what the loss of losing the ring for good would be. So he tucked it deep into the inner pouch of his satchel. It felt like tucking away his heart, the last few whole pieces of it. It felt like putting Hoseok aside, like isolation, like giving up.

It felt all wrong, but he knew that when he found Hoseok he’d be able to wear it again, and things would be all right.

* * *

When Minhyuk’s voice peters out, they lie side by side on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. A hush settles over them. Minhyuk’s head throbs, but at the temples now, and from crying. He breathes through his mouth, nose too stuffy.

“I don’t think there are any tears left in my body,” Hoseok says, his voice so soft it barely seems to break the quiet.

Their fingers are tangled loosely together, and Minhyuk gives Hoseok’s a squeeze. “But it feels good afterwards, doesn’t it? It’s a relief to let it all out.” He tips his head toward Hoseok, and Hoseok tips his back.

“It does, but I cry so much that the relief is only temporary.” Hoseok says it with a smile, though. Tired, but genuine. It wobbles a bit. “I’m so sorry you’ve gone through so much –”

Minhyuk covers Hoseok’s lips with his fingers to silence him. “No more apologizing.” He turns into Hoseok’s side. “No more apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.”

They doze, curled up together, Minhyuk’s head pillowed on Hoseok’s chest, one arm slung across Hoseok’s body, one leg across both of Hoseok’s. He doesn’t know if he fully slips into a dream, only that when he hears a voice later, it takes a massive effort to gather his focus and realize that it’s Kihyun speaking. A hushed conversation with Hoseok, who stirs beneath Minhyuk and makes a half-asleep sound.

Minhyuk cracks his eyes open, lifts his head. His bleary vision finds Kihyun sitting at the edge of the bed, a teasing sort of smile on his face, laced through with endearment.

“You’ve left enough visitors waiting,” Kihyun says gently to Hoseok, who starts to sigh, but ends up yawning halfway through. He settles a warm palm on Minhyuk’s hip, trying to get him to stay, but Minhyuk props himself up on an elbow. The light no longer slants through the window, the sun too high in the sky for it.

“Kihyun’s right. You should go.”

“Can’t I have a day off?” Hoseok pouts.

Minhyuk smiles at the way their roles have reversed. He wishes he could say yes, but…

“I wouldn’t push your luck.” He brushes the hair off of Hoseok’s forehead. “I’d start with half a day, which it looks like you’ve taken already.”

With more pouting and with some prodding, Hoseok gets out of bed and into fresh clothes. He splashes water over his face, runs his hands through his hair, and then he’s all straight back and chin held high, an invisible crown on his head. He promises to see them for dinner, and then he’s off.

Kihyun turns to Minhyuk once they’ve heard the bedroom door shut.

“Care for a walk? You look like you could use some waking up.”

* * *

He spends the afternoon quietly with Kihyun. There’s an unspoken understanding between them – he can feel that Kihyun understands what happened during the night, and doesn’t need to be told about it. He can also feel that Kihyun is being more careful with him today, but it isn’t a pitying kind of careful, isn’t a careful that treats Minhyuk like he’s made of glass.

It’s care that is warm, and attentive. Kihyun’s attention is so centered on him – every glance lingers, every bump of their shoulders so physically felt. There is something healing in Kihyun’s presence, in the way that he spares little focus for anything that isn’t Minhyuk, and yet does it without excess words, without pulling Minhyuk this way and that.

Minhyuk feels, simply, how important he is to Kihyun. He feels _comfortable_ , and remembers back to when he used to balk under the quiet intensity of Kihyun’s attention.

They dine beneath the archway where Kihyun first showed Minhyuk the hummingbirds. While the birds have long left their nest, the vines around the archway have continued to grow thick and twisted through the latticework, some hanging down above their heads.

It’s a cold lunch, perfect for the warm day. Fresh cheese and chilled fillets of smoked fish on yeasty bread. Yellow tomatoes sliced and soaked in olive oil and vinegar. Pickled cabbage in red pepper paste. A light, fragrant broth with glass noodles that they both slurp up eagerly, chuckling as they splatter their faces and the fronts of their shirts.

“Being able to eat like a slob is one of life’s great pleasures,” Kihyun says, wiping his wrist against his mouth.

“Sometimes, when you royals speak, it takes all my self-control not to roll my eyes.”

Kihyun laughs at that, and Minhyuk grins, though he hides it against the rim of his bowl as he takes another long sip of the broth. Kihyun watches him, laugh tempering out into a brilliant smile. He looks at Minhyuk’s hands, and when Minhyuk sets the bowl down, he reaches.

His fingers graze over Minhyuk’s knuckles, thumb slipping underneath Minhyuk’s palm. “Can I look?” he asks, nodding toward the ring.

Minhyuk nods back, unable to do much more. He’s surprised at how affected he is by Kihyun’s touch – the frisson of jitters that cut through him, that make him want to jerk away but also tighten his fingers around Kihyun’s to know what they feel like. This is the first time Kihyun has touched him like this since all those touches to his wrist in the market.

Kihyun pull his hand a little closer, shifting so that his fingers are hooked beneath Minhyuk’s. His grip is delicate. He looks at the ring, turning Minhyuk’s hand this way and that to see all the way around.

“I’ve always wanted to see it,” he says. He holds on with barely any pressure, but tingles race up Minhyuk’s arm. “Hoseok was never able to describe it well. You’re the one who has a way with words, after all. But he was able to design you the perfect ring. It’s beautiful.”

He isn’t looking at the ring anymore, though. His gaze is locked on Minhyuk’s, and the brief moments that pass seem to stretch forever, taken away by the breeze. Minhyuk counts every freckle on Kihyun’s face, and almost tells him how beautiful they all are.

Almost, but Kihyun looks away, fingers brushing Minhyuk’s as he lets go. With a shiver, the words race right out of Minhyuk’s head.

* * *

Hoseok is grinning wide when Minhyuk climbs over him to get into bed that night.

“What?” Minhyuk asks, when Hoseok’s grin follows him.

“He’s been like this for hours,” Kihyun says, glancing up from his book. “It’s unnerving.”

“I’m just happy,” Hoseok says. “It was a good day.”

“Because you slept through half of it?” Minhyuk asks.

Hoseok laughs. “Precisely!”

“You got more done than usual, too,” Kihyun says. He lifts an eyebrow. “Maybe you should sleep in more. Skip those showy breakfasts in the dining chamber and eat in here.”

“You’d just complain about crumbs getting all over the bed.”

Kihyun shuts his book, chuckling. “Fair enough. Then skip those showy breakfasts and eat somewhere quiet.” He looks at Minhyuk. “With us.”

“We don’t eat breakfast together,” Minhyuk says. “We just walk.”

“You’re not helping my argument.”

“You weren’t making a very good one in the first place.”

“Isn’t he?”

They both turn toward Hoseok, who, if possible, is grinning even wider. He motions his chin toward the two of them. “I want to see more of this.”

“Of what?” Minhyuk asks, frowning.

“You two bickering. It’s cute.”

Kihyun pantomimes throwing up, while Minhyuk rolls his eyes, grateful that the candlelight will hide the heat in his cheeks and the back of his neck. Hoseok laughs, delighted by the both of them.

“I’m going to bed,” Minhyuk says, flopping down on his back and pulling the blanket up to his chin, then crossing his arms beneath it.

“Sleep tight,” Hoseok says, swooping down to kiss his forehead.

“He will, literally, if he’s going to bed like a mummy,” Kihyun says. Minhyuk rolls his eyes again, and Kihyun and Hoseok laugh fondly.

And then they lean over him toward each other, lips meeting quickly before they utter twin _Good night_ s. And then they freeze, and Minhyuk’s eyes pop wide, and there is one very confused moment as everyone realizes what just happened.

Hoseok and Kihyun just kissed in front of Minhyuk, for the first time.

Minhyuk recovers first, resisting the urge to roll his eyes _again._ He lets out a snort that draws their sheepish gazes toward him. “You’re acting like children. You can kiss in front of me. I’m not going to faint or anything.”

Kihyun still looks stunned, but Hoseok smiles down at him, then drops beside him and snuggles up close, nuzzling the side of his face.

“What are you doing?” Minhyuk laughs as Hoseok peppers his face with kisses. He tries to roll away, and ends up with Hoseok spooned against his back, still hugging him ridiculously tight.

Kihyun settles down more quietly, and farther away, but there’s something so very affectionate in his expression, his eyes on Minhyuk so unselfconsciously that Minhyuk’s stomach swoops.


End file.
